


Heir

by millain123



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aunt Harleen Quinzel, Aunt Pamela Isley, BAMF Barbara Gordon, BAMF Jason Todd, BAMF Tim Drake, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Bisexual Selina Kyle, Bisexual Tim Drake, Bisexuality, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Continuity What Continuity, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Good Parent Selina Kyle, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Multi, No Incest, POV Alternating, Past Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Protective Jason Todd, Romani Dick Grayson, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric, Timeline What Timeline, Young Tim Drake, but not with any of these characters, jack and janet drake run a criminal org. and tim finds out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29038254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millain123/pseuds/millain123
Summary: Jason Todd prides himself on knowing the game. Knowing the players even better. The Silver Dragons were something he didn't know very much about. That is until he receives a strangely detailed email about them.Tim Drake is a smart 14-year-old. Smart enough to question his parents. where did all that money come from? Why is Drake Ind. not doing anything big but hasn't been swallowed up? So he decides to do something about itI Will update next week sorry!!
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Pamela Isley & Selina Kyle & Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Selina Kyle/Harleen Quinzel, Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake & Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake & Harleen Quinzel, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Pamela Isley, Tim Drake & Selina Kyle
Comments: 11
Kudos: 157





	1. The Silver Dragons-  I

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [How To Accidentally Acquire a Brother](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617071) by [172](https://archiveofourown.org/users/172/pseuds/172). 



> This is just a chapter to establish a few things. and I'm pretty sure you can guess where this is going. 
> 
> CW: Some descriptions of violence

Jason was for at least a temporary amount of time, a crime lord. That is something that should not be forgotten. Being said, to be a Crime Lord, he had to know the players on the board. Whether it be the Mafias’, plural, or the drug runners that ended up killing just as many kids as supervillains did. Kids in crime alley or kids in the upper crust, it didn’t matter. Drugs targeted everyone.

He also prided himself on good intel. Knowing names, real ones, was paramount to this type of game. Figuring out who was behind the mask, while keeping his own identity hidden. He, very pointedly, did not thank Bruce for that kind of training.

It was the first step in taking down the drug rings, finding out who he had to shoot. Gaining new territory functioned on the same wavelength. While he did not often find himself respecting other members of Gotham’s game, he could admire their ability to keep their cards close to their blood-soaked chests. At least for a while. Until inevitability, he had to put a bullet through said chest. 

All part of the job. 

Not that he minded. The sick, bloodthirsty part of him that had only strengthened after his little dip in the lime Kool-Aid loved the sound of bones crunching. The weak begging of someone who thought themselves powerful. Every man thought themselves a god until a gun was pointed at their skull. Did that make Jason a vengeful spirit or a dealer of Justice? 

Didn’t matter anyway.

They were already dead. Another job done, another man off the streets that Bruce would never really take care of. Did he really think that anyone would stay in jail forever? In Gotham? Where a piece of gum and a five-dollar bill would be enough for the corrupt cops to give you a “get out of jail free” card. This was the better solution.   
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Busy nights were often Jason’s favorites and his least favorites. He preferred them for the Adrenaline rush that stuck with him even after he wandered into one of the safe houses that spread in an incomprehensible map around Gotham. It would take a genius or Barbara Gordon to track where all the were. He wasn't daft he knew that Barbara could easily get in contact with him if need be. 

Sometimes he almost missed her.

Enough sentimental bullshit. He had an adrenaline rush to keep him happy. A happy Red Hood usually meant that more blood was going to be spilled. But it also meant that more work could be done, and work he did on these busy nights. 

it was a dual-edge sword, on one hand, those busy nights kept him, for lack of a better word, busy, gave him the recklessness he searched for as Robin. Something he couldn't always have under the tutelage of Batman. 

On the other hand, after everything was said and done he was bone dead tired. And yes he often made that joke. Only to himself, of course, he had a reputation to uphold. don't want to know that the infamous Red Hood crack jokes about his own demise. It would ruin the image.

He let out a few short breaths resting quickly on a rooftop. It was July and Gotham was for once uncomfortably warm. And humid. Jason blamed the pollution. It was times like these he regrets choosing a costume with a leather jacket and leather gloves. He swore if he curled his hands into fists tight enough then he'd be able to hear his own sweat sloshing around. 

He had been productive that day and night, getting to intimidate a few new people on the scene, little fishes in the big whirlpool of a pond that Gotham was often characterized as. It was fun. He had spent most of the day doing a bit of research, what was arguably the least fun part of his job. it just wasn't that exciting to look up several different ways of spelling “the”. Only to see if it fit into a cipher he had been working on decoding. 

It hadn’t proved fruitless though, a list of names jotted down in a journal. If he listened closely enough, he could faintly hear a redhead’s eyes’ rolling at the way he stubbornly neglected to use all the digital tools at hand.

It wasn't that he didn't like the digital aspect of the new world, but he knew how easy it was to get anything you wanted out of a computer. a paper journal was something that only he had access to. 

The best part of a productive day was that he did not run into any of the bats. No Nightwing, who was staying over for what Jason thought was emotional support. No Batgirl, the new one, a blonde chick who almost made Jason laugh at times. 

And best of all no Batman. No half-hidden lectures and invites to come home, no fights that would ultimately end in the green taking over Jason's vision. That automatically puts this day at a plus one. 

A soft thump was heard softly behind Jason. Maybe he spoke too soon, turning his obscured head around to face Nightwing. 

Shiiiiiiiit he briefly thought, cursing internally about how good the day had gone. Of course, Dick had to come and ruin it. Maybe it was karma. 

“Hood,” Came the tired voice of Dick Grayson, almost done with his patrol session it seemed. Jason faintly wanted to strangle him.

“Dickiebird,” Jason responded equal amount of vitriol in his words. It was almost a good day. Jason checked himself, knives hidden where knives definitely should not be, and readied his stance. If this was going to be a fight, then hell if he didn't win.

Nightwing took notice, putting his hands up in what was supposed to be a calming gesture. 

“I really don’t want a fight tonight, okay. You can try to punch the shit out of me some other time,”

“Try?” Jason huffed out. He could succeed in that feat. It would be as easy as pie. 

“Yes try you asshole, now I was just going to say that I,” and by ‘I’ dick clearly meant me and Bruce, “saw you checking out the docks yesterday. Anything you want to tell me?” It was hard to tell, but Jason swore he could see Dick’s eyebrow quirking up.

“And now you’re stalking me? Wow, dickie. I’m hurt,” He pressed a gloved hand against his chest, feigning emotional pain. 

“And why the hell would I tell you shit? Last time I checked you and I are not friends,” If anything, the shaky alliance they had built could be taken down by a well-placed kick to the jaw. 

“I’m not saying you have to tell me anything Hood, I just like to have my bases covered,” Dick tried to reason. Having your bases covered was code for “Bruce wanted me to check”. It was times like these that Dick wanted to move back to Bludhaven. At least there he’d be allowed to do his own dirty work, not have to pick up his adoptive father’s. 

“Sure you do. But since I really not going to tell you anything and you look to worn out for a fight, seriously you must be getting old, I going to make my dramatic exit,”

“Wait Ho-” And Jason was off, falling for a short second before latching his grapple onto a street light. Dick could chase after him if he really wanted to but for now, it just wasn't worth it. 

He could have this conversation tomorrow. Or the next day. Jason was unpredictable like that. He smiled under his helmet, knowing that Dcik was going to leave this one alone, for now. He had a bit of common sense at least. He certainly hadn’t learned it from Bruce. 

Jason came upon the safe house he was staying at, for the time being, one of the nicer places he periodically lived in. at least this one actually had a kitchen and a dining room. separated by actual walls. 

Gotham really needs to get it's real estate together. But it likely wouldn't, corruption parading around the city like the parades that would always be crashed. Jason still wondered why they held them, casualties often taking place instead of the fun that was promised. 

It was still one of his places, as he would never call any of his safe houses home. It would make the other safe houses jealous. Jason of course did not use the keys, instead, vying to enter through the fire escape. It wouldn't do anyone any good to see the Red Hood entering through the front door of an apartment building, it would only put the innocent lives of the people who were bunking with him in danger. 

Besides climbing through the window after scaling a fire escape filled him with a sort of nostalgia, Nostalgia from a time before he tried to steal the tires off the Batmobile. he told himself he was reclaiming those memories. Maybe one day he’d believe it. He slid the window, shut, being quiet for none but himself. And the stray cat he had taken to feeding every time it hung around. He called it Rio. 

He really should get real cat food, after all, table scraps couldn’t be very good for it. But on the other hand, this is a stray cat in Gotham, it was probably eating well on Jason’s table scraps. 

It could be wondered how a man like Jason Todd, who had murdered many people in the last two years, was more upset about Rio’s diet, but sometimes it just worked out like that. 

He slid off the helmet, knowing his hair would be scruffed up all to hell. The domino that sat firmly on his eyes was just another layer of precaution. Some might call it gratuitous, seeing how if someone tried to remove his helmet, they would be met by a nasty shock. Jason called it planning ahead. 

And it wasn’t like the special glue he had to apply was hard to get. Sure he had to try a few times to get the chemical formula right (resulting in a few not-fun burns on his face) but he wasn’t top of his class in his first life for nothing. 

It seemed almost arbitrary, he thought as he sat down to separate his life into two sections. sure they were separated by a time in an unfortunate grave, but wasn't he still him? some days it would be easy to doubt it. because he certainly wasn't the bright-eyed kid of his Robin years. That boy died in Ethiopia. but he was still fundamentally Jason Todd. The same tan skin and reddish-brown hair. This time with a noticeable white streak through it. 

Said white streak wouldn't come out no matter how hard he tried to dye it or cut it. It always grew back.

His laptop rested on the dining table along with a plate of leftovers from a few nights ago. Jason wasn't anywhere near Alfred in cooking expertise but he could make a few things. Stir fry being one of them. It's not like it was actually hard, just put the stuff in the pan make sure it doesn't burn, and add the appropriate amount of spices. 

Which for Jason really meant a good helping of chili powder and garlic. Even so, he did in fact add hot sauce. it seemed that his taste buds had dulled over the time he was dead, taking more and more to even get them to recognize good flavor. Though he did always love spicy food.  
He took a second to open his Laptop, logging in through a few different firewalls to find a strange notification staring back at him. 

And just when he thought that this night was going to be free from this sort of bullshit. he immediately tensed up not recognized anything about this sort of message. Of course, he was suspicious, as this was a personal computer which word means someone hacked through all the firewalls he put up. 

This wouldn't be Oracle, she preferred to talk to him through hacking through his comms. Maybe this was someone new. That really couldn't be good. Nothing about this situation was good but an unknown variable could prove to be not something Jason wanted to deal with. 

The question of whether or not to click open the message fully settled firmly in his head. For all he knew, it could open up a virus or give his location away. Was a special kind of shit that he did not want to put up with today. Tonight. Whatever. It meant bad news. Was it seriously so hard to put the full message on the first screen? 

Jason had always been a curious person. that would often be his downfall. and besides, he was confident enough in his own abilities that he could relocate to somewhere quickly. and threw a short tutelage with Barbra, he learned how to set it up so if his files got leaked they would terminate themselves.

What the hell he thought briefly to himself before clicking to open it fully. There he was assaulted by a very neat organized system of flies with the header reading the Silver Dragons  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Silver Dragons were a large pain in Jason’s ass. Because they were smart and very very dangerous. Whether it be hiring guns or smuggling them, they definitely got the job done. They were basically untraceable, a web of false names and fronts that led to nothing being a strong shield. 

And they were one of the newer ones. Not weaved into the city like Falcone or any other Mafia family, but not flashy enough to garner much attention. They just sat in the background, waiting to claim small bits from everywhere. And they did almost everything. Sure they were mostly focused on Arms deals and the corporate side of things, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t dabble in drug rings and distribution.

Which meant that their biggest targets were children. And Red Hood was very strongly against that. But they had been a little quieter in the past month or so, with other things taking up attention in their stead. 

So why did Jason just get an Email detailing everything about them?

And more importantly, who the hell sent it?


	2. The Silver Dragons - II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim Drake is smart. 
> 
> He is also paranoid.
> 
> His parents are suspicious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is another background chapter before we get the story moved along. I promise this is like the last one. 
> 
> CW: Graphic depiction of a person on drugs, allusions to child neglect

Tim Drake is a very strange 14-year-old. But then again, it’s not every 14 that goes out at night to stalk vigilantes. He was also an incredibly smart 14-year-old, you have to be to remember a particularly traumatizing event that happened when you were four. After all, seeing The Flying Grayson's go down would lead to many events in his life that arguably should not have happened. 

He remembers that day as if it were a few weeks ago, Stark colors of the circus and the flash of a photo being taken. Dick Grayson. Said boy as he was still one at the time saying he performed a trick just for Tim. 

The quadruple somersault. A sabotaged line giving birth to Robin. Of course, he did not know it at the time. No, it was just the first event in the many line of tragedies that would befall Timothy Drake. His first brush with death, not his death of course, but his first time seeing the grim reaper take someone's soul away. 

He remembers his mother letting him cry on her coat that night. That was the only instance he could recall. It was a very nice coat after all and child tears, full of salt, would be sure to damage it. But still, it was a comfort to the even younger Timothy Drake. 

Now most of his childhood memories were filled up with an empty house, not quite as empty as it was now with Nannies still being present. But Drake Manor was clean and cold much like the demeanor of his mother. 

His father on the other hand ran hot, with both his temper and the loud way he spoke his words. Fire and ice his two parents were. There is a common saying opposites attract. 

That was not the case for the Drake's. It may have been once upon a time, in their younger years before the harsh set of middle-aged took over. But now they fought more often then they didn't. Janet fought ruthlessly, with precision and directly at the heart. Cold, calculating and very, very good at her job. It could be argued to everyone except Jack that she was the smarter one of the pair. 

Tim most of the time agreed. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It could also be said that Tim took after his mother. That was also true. Being the clever young man he was of course he was suspicious. Suspicious of the way Drake industries hadn't gone swallowed up by a bigger organization. They weren't a powerhouse spanning thousands of different fields like Wayne industries and they certainly weren't corrupt enough to stay on top like LexCorp did. 

Or maybe they were. It would certainly explain things. Having Drake industries is a front was smart Tim had to admit. But it was crazy. His parents running a corrupt organization, laundering money or doing unseemly things to stay on top? He wasn't oblivious to his parents' slightly gray morals, not at all, in fact he saw the way they scoffed at overly humanitarian values. It just didn't pay in this world to look out for anyone but yourself.

That made sense in a sort of disconnected way to Tim. But unfortunately he still had trust in his parents. Trust of a child who did not want to see the truth. 

His mother did not trust anyone. Not Tim, not Jack, not anyone of her gala friends and certainly not Gotham. You'd be hard pressed to trust Gotham, its streets lined with the dirty blood of Mafia and organized crime. Tim was very well aware of the corruption that haunted his City.

He loved it all the same. 

That was just something about Gotham that spoke to Tim's instincts. To the primal part of him that wanted to document and to see everything. The neon light splashing on oil slicks or rare flash of starlight that peaked through the clouds. It was all beautiful. 

Tim could wax poetic about Gotham all he wanted, but that would not change the suspicions he had about his parents. In fact going out at night, the Gotham air making it easier for him to breathe despite the pollution, helped him think.

It should also be noted that Tim was strangely good with computers. He had always liked the burn of screen light on his retinas even as a young child. And he had spent many days learning how to code. Code being a loose term that here means hack. 

It was a fun easy way to get out some energy, to cause harmless fun and learn information. His parents did always tell him that he needed to learn about everything in this world. If he was learning about what his parents didn't want him to know about well then that was their fault. 

He had oftentimes taken private classes from a strange user just named O. They were smart, smarter than Tim and blunt. But not in the sharp way that his mother was, but in a kinder more smiley way. They had taken to teaching him how to "code".Though they might have not suspected that he would use it to try and cover a criminal organization that was using Drake industries as a front. 

That was likely not their intention.

But alas Tim did in fact find something. 

"Mom I have a few questions for you," his Nick voice and small figure did not look like someone was trying to uncover something and he wanted to keep it that way. His mother was smart and she would see if anything was suspicious. 

"Quickly Tim we have to be leaving soon," the “we” in that sentence did not mean Tim, Janet and Jack. It was a well-known fact to nobody but the Drake family that Tim did not go on their excursions.

"It's just some stuff about Drake industries... You always told me I should be prepped,"

If you weren't looking close enough you wouldn't notice that minute flinch and tick of Janet's arm when her only son asked that question. It was what she had told him to be prepared for of course. But really, now?

"Ask your father," she replied with a finality in her voice. This was not a voice to be questioned with, Tim knew that. But he also knew that he wouldn't get any answers out of his father, he would likely get anger and inquiries about reasoning. 

He had been researching Gotham underground for a while, in order to find some sort of lead. It was difficult, yes but when you're small people don't usually try to look for you. 

No one would suspect a 14-year-old would be able to figure out the identity of the Silver Dragons. 

Yes the Drakes were the silver dragons. 

He discovered it piece by piece. There was no big revelation about what his parents were really doing or the jackpot of information that he needed. His parents were too clever for that. No, it was different accounts from all over the place. People talking and people listening. 

Tim was a very good listener. It had been ingrained in him as a child to be one. Quite ironic that the values that his parents taught him would be their undoing. 

For what Tim had found over the six months of his intensive research and listening was that Drake industries was a front.

A front for all the unseemly things he had never wanted to believe. There was evidence of laundering money through the few outreach centers that Drake industries had provided. It was a fantastic system that arguably wouldn't ever be found out, as Drake industries was just there. It wasn't constantly in scandals like Lexcorp but it wasn't in the news as much as Wayne Industries was.

It went blissfully under the radar. It was perfect. Well not quite perfect as a 14-year-old with a computer and neglectful parents could figure it out but so far he had suspected that he was the first one. 

The laundering money was of course the first thing he figured out and one of the first things he ever suspected. But as Tim dug more and more into his parents endeavors he found that there were arms deals. 

Powerful weapons that Drake industries had been selling and buying and worst of all making. Drake industries did always have a good science division.

Jack and Janet Drake were the head of the beast, metaphorically, but they had contingencies on top of contingencies. So many people that if they were to be taken out by say an assassin or mercenary the Silver Dragons would survive for at least another year or two. It reminded Tim briefly of a Hydra, cutting off one head with me and two would take its place. 

And worst of all it was exceedingly hard to connect Jack and Janet Drake to this. The only way Tim had was on a rare night where he feigned in illness and his parents were home he was able to break into his mother's laptop. 

Janet it seemed was The Mastermind. The brains behind the operation. Tim couldn't say he was very surprised, she was arguably the most intelligent person he had ever met. Besides maybe Batman. 

But how had the Silver Dragons played into it? How could Tim give a name to it?

First of all having their organization named the silver dragons and their last name being Drake wasn't exactly subtle. It was honestly funny to Tim with all of the secrets that they were so great at keeping that they put such an obvious link to themselves. 

Was it hubris or could they just not resist?

And the Silver Dragons ran a lot like Drake industries. They kept under the radar but didn't let themself be lost in the ever-shifting board that was Gotham. And they supposedly did a multitude of stuff. The thing that was different was of course that Drake industries were thought to do good things for the community while the Silver Dragons, at least as much as Tim researched, did not seem very friendly.

The pictures he found of overdose victims in Crime Alley with something he had never wanted to see again. He was not oblivious to the drug issues in Gotham, affecting the poorer communities harsher but he never expected to see it.

The most he’d ever gotten a taste of it was on one of his late night excursions. He had been waiting for Batman and his new robin, the littlest one. He was sort of like Jason, except smaller and maybe angerier. And he used swords. Tim often wondered where what looked like a ten year old learned how to fight with a sword. 

He suspected assassins. He also really didn’t want to deal with a ten year old assassin. 

He was ducking down an alley shadows hiding his small figure when he came across a woman, delirious and high on something. She was seeing things that weren’t there and Tim was pretty sure that it wasn’t fear gas that had been used, for Scarecrow had been locked at Arkham at the time. She was scratching at her own skin and crying out for someone to come and tae her.

Tim ran from that alley and decided to go home early that night.

That event had likely forwarded his crusade, even when all his research points weren't turning up anything. 

But when it did, it was suffice to say that he did not know what he felt. But he did know had to do. Taking it to Batman would prove fruitless, as much trust as he had in the vigilante even as Bruce Wayne he would likely take less permanent marks at the Silver Dragons. They were rich enough to avoid jail time and their contingencies, if not destroyed inevitably would come back.

Tim did not like killing. He hated it in fact. He'd seen enough death and blood and hurt for one to a thousand lifetimes. But he was also a realist. His parents would not go down with the ship. He didn't want to compare them to cockroaches for fear that his mother could hear his thoughts. But it was an apt description.

They survived because they could. I was a sheer force of will or spite he didn't know but... The Silver Dragons would not be taken down legally.

He did not want to imagine his parents dead. Because for some dumb reason that he couldn't fix he loved him. Loved the few times they stayed with him when he was sick and a little boy. Love the one time his father had ever tried to play catch with him or take him to a baseball game. 

Tim hated baseball. 

He did not hate Jack and Janet Drake. But he hated what they were doing. 

He knew who the Red Hood was. It was surprisingly not that difficult to figure out. When you stalk someone for the better part of your life you had a tendency to learn a few things. You learn how someone walked, the words they used. Tim had never been told that he had an eye for that sort of thing but he should have

It didn't help that Nightwing called him Jaybird. 

But family ties were something that was inevitable. It was obvious that Dick Grayson still cared for Jason Todd. It was even more obvious that Jason Todd was the Red Hood. 

Tim had to admit that Jason had got better at hiding where he was, where his safe houses were. But keep in mind this was the boy who figured out Batman and Robin's patrol routes when he was ten. and who would win stalking Red Hood for the better part of 3 weeks now. 

And being the idiot with no self-preservation he decided it was a great idea to hack the security cameras around what he presumed was the Hood’s safe house that he was staying in at the time, and hack into his personal laptop. 

Don't worry he wore rubber gloves and a hair net and made sure he was only gone when Jason Todd was sure to not be there. Thanking the woman who had taught him how to break into places, he slid open the window that he’d seen Jason come through.

Ow.

The booby traps were a pain in the ass though. He received a nice little chemical burn from a trap poised outside the window, that had luckily not been connected to any servers. It was a pain to reset it though. 

Thank God for his less than extensive knowledge of first aid. It was a risky move he knew and it had an over 60% chance of failure. But he had to do it. He had to do it for... For not himself for he would likely be hurt more of his parents were exposed but for everyone else who had been hurt by them. 

He compiled a file on his parents. Pictures that he had found and pictures that he had taken, along with records of unexplained rises in income. Connections to their silver dragons should not be explained. (Tim explained them). 

And pictures of his mother and his father. Stuff that wouldn't guarantee that they would survive. 

Tim put off those scary emotions for another day, after all, he was a man on a mission now. Helping the Red Hood wasn't something he ever expected to do but he was still, at least Tim thought, that he was still Robin. Not the robin that he used to be. But someone who wanted to help people all the same.

It was all he allowed himself to think about as he put that file on Jason’s computer. He was helping people, he repeated in a mantra, bouncing inside his skull.

He’s not betraying his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Tim is so Brave and has no self-preservation. And I know Jason would likely have more traps but I couldn't think up a way for it to work.
> 
> Thanks for reading and next chapter the Red Hood goes searching


	3. Questions I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason reads more into the file
> 
> Barbra is a badass
> 
> And ends up meeting a small child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took so long but as you can tell it's a longer chapter. The first 2 were just intro and the rest should be about this length
> 
> CW: Drugs

Jason is not often surprised by much. He grew out of that after he came back from the dead.But he will admit when things do catch him off guard. Not to anyone else but himself of course, or maybe Roy or Kori. 

But nobody else. 

More so he does not like being caught off guard or surprised. Having the metaphorical wrong being pulled from under him in the form of an email detailing connections he had never once wanted to hear about was not something he had hoped for a Tuesday night. 

Maybe a Thursday or Friday if he was lucky. But no, it had to be a Tuesday. 

He needed alcohol. 

The Drakes were his neighbors for God's sake. Sure neighbor in rich people terms meant that they lived a few miles away from Wayne Manor, but they were still the closest people that they could go to. 

And now a mysterious email person is telling Jason that they were the ones behind Silver Dragons? 

It was admittedly a lot to take in. Jason didn't know much about the Drakes, except that they were rich and snobby and not someone he wanted to interact with at galas. He was pretty sure they had a son, maybe 14 or 15 years old. 

Oh God did their son know? 

He couldn't think of that right now, lest the green that was slowly taking over his vision fully plant itself in the front of his head again. No, that was not a conversation he was going to have with his mind tonight.

Maybe on a Friday. 

Drake industries was again not something Jason had paid much attention to, they were not that big of a competitor to Wayne industries and they mostly kept to themselves. They were quiet, only coming out with new things and announcements every few years. 

He clicked on the highlighted section of the page he first opened up to and found photographs. 

Photographs of people he did not know, which looked like they were taken from somewhere up high. A roof? He recognized the familiar Gotham streets though, in the better part of town but nowhere near the likes of Bristol and where the Drake's resided. Who were these people? And more importantly what did they have to do with the Drake industries. And the Silver Dragons.

He absent mindedly clicked on one of the pictures; a man, slightly overweight wearing a brown jacket and a bowler hat, He was transported to a document that showed the man's face better. Along with the name. 

Doctor Joseph Petridis. Chemical engineer, got his bachelor's degree at the college of New Jersey and got his Masters and doctorate at Kean University. 

Smart cookie.

He looked for the backspace button, making sure he got back to that file of photographs. From what he gathered these are people involved in Drake industries and subsequently the Silver Dragons. 

Chemists, Engineers, public speakers and anyone else that could be beneficial to a criminal empire were detailed there. it contained professional photos, the ones they'd obviously known about taken and the ones taken from what Jason suspected as a rooftop. 

what kind of insanely dedicated person took pictures on top of rooftops, and why were they so personally invested in this case?

Whatever, that wasn't the question for tonight at least. 

He got back to the main page only to see a note pop up, which had been made to appear like a digital sticky note. It was cute.

It's read and as follows,  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Hello Mr. Hood. You may be wondering what this information may be of importance to you. Additionally it is imperative to explain myself. You can call me BW, though it is just an alias as I have an identity to protect. I'm sure you can understand.

Furthermore, this information has not come easily, not has it been expected. The Drakes have been, for many years, just another corporation. Though as you read more into the documents I have procured you may find things that are unsettling. This is your warning. 

The Silver Dragons are a criminal organization, they are rather skilled at covering their tracks. This is something that you must keep in mind. I'm sure you do not trust me, nor this information. I do not expect you to. But know this. 

The Drakes are not what they seem. They will keep hurting people and the are very wealthy. You can infer what you will about that. 

If you click on the photos I have provided, you will see a profile I have made for each person. These are the people I have found with ties to both Drake industries and The Silver Dragons. I am telling you, right here and now, that this is not something that will go down without a little bloodshed. I am not ignorant in your methods or else I would have taken this to the police.

I am merely a messenger, but I will allow you to know that this case is close to my heart. That is all.

As you might know, The Silver Dragons are talented in many different areas and as we both know, Drugs disproportionately affect the lower class communities. Such as Crime Alley. This is another reason I have contacted you. 

You might be startled to know that in some of those lower class communities you are seen as a hero. You have a history of protecting those that would not be protected by the law. Those who Gotham would gladly throw into the pits. 

Thank you for this.

If you do not want to accept this case I will work on this independently. But I do sincerely hope you take it into consideration. 

Thank you for your time - BW.

Holy shit. 

Who the fuck take alike the dude fork Charlie's Angel's like that anymore, Jason thought, skimming over the message once more. 

He didn't think about the way this mystery BW called him a hero. He really couldn't right now. This person seems well spoken, but slightly impatient. Not that they weren’t polite, quite the opposite of it but they obviously were running on a time schedule. 

And what the hell did BW stand for? 

And it almost seemed like they were struggling to convince themselves of the connection between Drake industries and Silver Dragons. It was curious to say at least. 

They've given him an opt-out. telling Jason that they would work on this case themselves but they would greatly appreciate his help. Apparently this person was confident in their own abilities. 

Jason was starting to be as well. Taking their advice and going back to the profiles that the photos had taken him to. They held everything from date of birth to star sign. 

Who knew so many engineers were Libras?

This person was extremely detail-oriented and liked to keep things up-to-date apparently, as one of the pictures featured a coffee shop that it only opened up 3 weeks ago. 

God was he really considering taking this case. He doesn't even know if the information is good. It could be a trap set up by the Silver Dragons, to take out him. 

But why involve Drake industries? Unless they were also a secret superhero family that was threatening their infrastructure.

He doubted it. 

Was taking down Drake industries merely something that would shake the foundations of Gotham? No, they hadn't solidify themselves this much in the city 

Was it random?

Maybe a red herring to throw him off, to distract from the real goals of both of these organizations? 

He scrolled past another document, detailing chemical makeups of something that looked like an opioid. He didn't recognize the formula, not being that used to looking for the different elements and more for names of drugs.

They usually had shitty names. 

He'd have to check them out. This BW character was right about one thing, he did take his job in Crime Alley very seriously. If he could prevent one more kid from showing up in an alley overdosed with foam coming out the mouth, could prevent them from becoming another statistic that would never be dealt with, then he would.

Where does someone learn the chemical makeup of opioids? That is without having some ties to these things. Or being a police officer. 

He was confident that BW wasn't one though, they're off hand comment about the corruption present in the GCPD enough to solidify that. 

Maybe a sort of private information broker. Selling to both sides. That would be a pain in the ass to take down, though they were popping up more and more. People who knew small tidbits and would sell them to the highest bidder. 

Jason wouldn't say that he didn't enjoy putting a bullet through their skulls. 

but again he was reminded of the personal stakes this person evidently had in the case. They had said it was close to them. Maybe someone had died by the Silver Dragon's hands? Or even more selfish, another business dealer that wanted revenge. 

The Red Hood was not a mercenary. Certainly for not corrupt business dealers that had thought themselves slighted by another organization. 

It went against the roulette wheel of his moral code.

A well spoken informant and a killer walking into a bar and you know how this one goes. That assuming he’d ever figure who this man was. Or woman, a voice sounding suspiciously like Barbara Gordan said. He stuttered out a grunt to nobody that could hear.

He had never been the best at reading between the lines when he couldn’t hear someone speak. They could hide hundreds of different meanings in 1 or 2 words. He didn’t like it.

THis BW seemed skillful at subtext, each sentence only meant to be taken how they wanted you to. Still being ineffably polite and providing information that even Jason would admit would be hard to get with something that tilted his scales more towards accepting this case. 

God he was acting like he was some sort of private investigator. Not a momentary crime Lord that was doing what Batman wouldn't. 

He should go touch some grass. 

Most of what BW said made at least some sort of sense, with instructions about the photos that he would have figured out on his own. 

But one of the things that made him pause was the quote; the Drake's are not what they seem. In the letter it had meant that they were the criminal organization the Silver Dragons but even more so it sounded like they weren't the people they had put on.

He did expect as much as everyone in the upper crust of Gotham wore masks but the Drake's never hid their borderline dislane with the more charitable outgoings. 

He leaned back cracking his neck and looking over at the time. The red numbers on his microwave told him that it was about 11:30 and he had spent over 30 minutes looking at this damned email. 

Not that 11:30 was considered late by any means but it had startled in me had been so unaware of the time. 

He didn't like to be caught unaware, especially of times. Tomorrow would be a new day and would obviously bring new problems that he might have to put this case on the back burner. 

But the part of him that had been trained by many people told him to do his own research and to figure out who this BW was. They hadn't given away much about their identity though they had explicitly told him that they had an identity to protect, they didn't expect Jason to trust them and that they were at least a little bit okay with his bloody methods. 

He could work with that. Though he might have to inquire for some help with the more techy side of things from Barbara. It's not that he wanted to as she was likely to want to deal with this case, but she was least likely to report him to the big man on top. 

The Batman wouldn't deal with this case in any way that would stick, he just settled for arresting them and letting the corrupt system allow them to escape. 

Nightwing wouldn't be any help either, too tainted by emotions too have a beneficial work environment. 

God he was starting to sound like Bruce. Wasn't that a thought? This one case made him fall back to his detectiving roots. But he knew that his curiosity wouldn't be stated until he figured out how good this information was and how much peril it would put someone in for him to ignore it.

He set out to go through the rest of the email tonight and tomorrow to do some reconnaissance. It wouldn't be hopefully the most interesting of days but it would provide some insight. 

He could desperately use that right now. All he had to do was avoid the bats, figure out who the BW person was, consider taking the case and trying to expose a multimillion dollar organization as a criminal organization. Easy peasy. 

Who was he kidding? He had an entire file of cold cases that he'd always wanted to solve but had proved too difficult for him to deal with alone at least. And he really did not want to have to team up with the bats on this one. It will prove too complicated and he couldn't pay dad pay to have the green take over his vision once again. 

He clicked back on that chemical formula sheet, finding it exquisitely organized. If there's one thing this BW person was good at it was organization. It had been split up into three groups, the shortest one with names of what Jason could only assume were distributors, another with sketched up chemical formulas in what looked like a chicken scratch. 

Was this BW's handwriting?

The third and final one held another note. 

This one was shorter and read  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Hello again Mr Hood, as you may tell these are about the drugs that the Silver Dragons have been dealing in. They're mostly focused on opioids such as heroin with slight modifications that would make them even deadlier. My information about the section is most lacking. I apologize. 

This is the place where they have the most hidden, and I have not uncovered it all yet. But I do have a list of what I'm sure you already know are distributors. Places and people that make sure it cannot be traced back to either Drake industries or the Silver Dragons. 

This is a more recent update, as they mostly focus on arms deals, from what I can tell, beginning part of their reign. But as you may know they are startlingly good at learning the land quickly. 

This is another thing I’ve guessed that could be personal to you as I've stated before in my last letter I hoped you found. 

I do not mean to lead you on a scavenger hunt Mr Hood, but it is better to give you information with which it is connected to. Makes it easier for all of us. Except those details in this list as I am certain that they are the ones either producing the opioids or selling them.

I'm not someone who does not believe in Mercy. but I've brought this information to you and I know what will be done with it. 

Again I'm offering to you that you can put this to the side as I'm sure you have more important matters. I will continue in this case whether or not I have your assistance. 

Thank you for your consideration, BW  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay so another hint. For someone that said that they did not want to leave Jason on a scavenger hunt they were sure doing a bang up job of it.  
Was this seriously how it was going to go, Jason wondered? Him going through information and getting mysterious notes from someone who seemed alright with killing but spoke like they were an academic. 

Who is Jason kidding? He was an academic sometimes. But this person was right, any of the information on the drugs was recent, only a year or two old. And the Silver Dragons had only formally shown up on his radar when they had started dealing drugs so that cross-reference meant that this information was probably good. 

Or someone just did a hell of a job at faking It.

For some damn reason Jason didn't think that BW is faking this certain brand of concern. There was something about the lack of hesitation and openness about the document that made him pause. No expectations for payments, no locks or riddles he had to solve in order to get the last bits of info. 

Just a person who was considered enough to organize things better than the Batcave. And that's saying something. Jason knew that it would be a rough night of sifting through the information and making a priority list, though the small part of him that still sometimes wanted help, hoped that there would be more notes pointing him in the right direction.

It would sure make his job easier. 

Like any type of job has ever been easy, especially when dealing with undercover and the upper crust. God he hated all of the lies and deception in the rich people world. At least down here everyone was playing with how much they hated each other. And he didn't have to use subtext to get across what he meant.

After all the punch to the face is just as much an I hate you as a strategic move that someone would see in chess.

And obviously this person had come from the upper crust, it was an obvious comparison, how else would they be so interested in Drake industries?

They talk like this was a transaction but there was no money to be seen. He didn't like it. He didn't like owing people. 

Jason sighed before clicking off the drug document and back onto the main page. The header taunted him with an all-nighter that he knew he shouldn't pull. He was most likely going too anyways. 

The city never sleeps and neither does the Red Hood. He should really get himself a cup of tea. Caffeinated preferably. 

And tomorrow he would set out and do some hunting. Not the fun kind, just information hunting. 

Which meant it was time to pay his favorite librarian a visit. 

Barbara Gordon though being confined to a wheelchair for the indefinite future was still the most badass person that Jason knew. She was smart and she most importantly didn't ask questions. If she needed information from you she'd find out.

He can see why Dick was attracted to her, though when his expert opinion, she was way out of his league. Jason was pretty sure she was out of anyone's league. 

She was also an alpha level hacker who broke into the pentagon for fun.The last time Jason had seen Barbara her time was about 25 minutes give or take a few seconds and the amount of caffeine she was on. It was days like those he was grateful she was on the side of good and justice. 

Certainly not the bat side of Justice, and she was more lenient with Jason's rules than the old man was. And after all her being disabled by the joker he gave him a few points.

Still a badass though.

Jason save the file to a flash drive that he had sat next to the computer before powering down the laptop and getting up. He checked the clock once more finding it to be about 1:00 a.m. in the morning. 

He was actually planning on getting some sleep. 

That plan will probably be thrown out the window for the next few weeks, depending on how the information turned up. If he checked with Barbara and it looked to be nothing but a red herring, then he'd throw the flash drive away and never think about it again.

But if it didn't? If she could verify the information was actually good, well then he should pick up more caffeinated tea from the grocery store.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason woke up from his fitfully sleep, though it had gotten a few more hours than he expected, to the sound of some pop music playing through his radio. 

Why exactly did he set it to that station again?

He knew what time it was, 6:30 wake up had been something he had not been able to fix, no matter how hard he tried to sleep in. 

His internal clock and never been that great but it always new when the sun was going to rise. He was sure the sun was rising somewhere at 6:30. 

He vaguely remembers thinking as a child that the sun didn't rise in Gotham, that the clouds poisoned it and made it fall once more.

Jason was a very dramatic child.

And now he was a very busy man.

There was about an hour to waste, before Barbara shift started at the library so he settled on making himself an omelette. Opening a fridge he spied the baron contents reminding himself to go to the grocery store again. 

Hell he already at half of a list. Caffeinated tea, milk, cheese, and maybe one of those spice mixes for a night he decided to have tacos. 

They still sold those at his grocery store right?

Though his internal clock never allowed him to go back to sleep in the morning he still couldn't help but be bone tired. His sleep schedule had never been the best, even when he was Robin and for the past 6 months it had just been deteriorating. Maybe he should go visit Roy and Kori, he always slept better when those he trusted were around.

Cracking the eggs open in the hot skillet he mused over how to tell the situation to Barbara without raising an inordinate amount of suspicion. Not that she wouldn't be suspicious that he was meeting her during her day job, after all he didn't go out much. 

What is there for a dead man to do besides killing others?

He had been so preoccupied with work, and running the things he had to that he had neglected to go to book club or tea parties. Wasn't like he needed them anyways. 

He laid down the red and green peppers, a staple for any omelet he was assured. Alfred always made his omelets with a mix of cheddar and swiss cheese along with the vegetables. 

Did he put cheese on his grocery list? He should.

Almost for something easy to make that didn't take that much thought, so his brain going to be focused on other things. 

He had checked his laptop of course, looking for any new information that he had neglected to give his attention to. No new notes had popped up during his rest and nothing in his apartment, during his quick check, had seemed out of place. 

He still wasn't sure how BW got access to his computer but that was a question that would need to be tabled for a time where more caffeine was involved. 

But such is the life.

He chopped down on his good-sized breakfast before checking his personal phone. It had protection placed on it by the one and only Oracle and he was confident that nobody else would be able to get in. 

News articles, amber alerts and anything that might interest him or more importantly Hood. 

Was it wrong of him to think of the Red Hood and Jason Todd as two different people? 

There was one thing that popped up that it grabbed his attention. Something about Drake industries. Apparently they were planning on holding a gala 3 weeks from now.

Something about a recent archaeological dig Jack and Janet Drake had been on. Just another way for them to show off their toys, and schmooze with people that neither parties cared about.

He clicked briefly on the article, skimming through the pageantry before getting to a quote from Janet he thought?

It read that they were very happy to be home in Gotham but that there were many other opportunities that they may need to leave soon. 

Jason stalled on a picture of their little son, Timothy Drake. Just a little twig of a thing who couldn't be older than 13. Bright blue eyes and dark hair that had obviously been cut recently.

He did not look like someone who had recently been on an archaeological dig. He looked almost like a doll, perfectly pale with big eyes and a soft Mona Lisa smile.

Jason didn't like it.

He clicked off, shutting off his phone and returning to breakfast.   
He ate quickly, not wanting to waste any time before standing up and cringing at the sound of his chair scraping across the floor. He was very lucky that he had used the money he had borrowed from Bruce to pay for this place.

He didn't want the next renter having to wonder about scratches on the floor, though in Gotham they’d just be par for the course. after all he had once dated a place that he had never wanted to take a UV light to. You can never tell if it's blood or if it's something else.

Most of the time you don't want to know.

Shrugging on a faded brown leather jacket not unlike the one he wore for Hood business but different with its faux fur trim, he blindly reached for his to go mug. 

It kept tea warm and it had a plethora of nice stickers, ranging from Jane Austen to Star Wars. He had seen the newest one, not in theaters as he had been dead at the time and honestly his opinion was... Meh.

He really hated Kylo Ren though. Apparently it reminded him of someone.

He debated on whether or not to put on his aviator glasses as it would be strange to see someone wearing them inside a building but it'd be even stranger if people saw his eyes glowing green.

he slid them on, taking comfort in the gold tint it gave the world around him. The perpetual cool gray of Gotham sky seemed a little bit warmer and the pale pot-bellied cheeks of businessmen he'd pass on his way were a little less shiny.

He slid on his motorcycle helmet a plain red one because he had to stay on brand and revved up his bike. Not that he didn't enjoy the feeling of when racing in his hair but he had grown used to it over the past year and a half.

This helmet was also unassuming but had been outfitted with some pretty cool shit. Just access to his personal com lines and some Alexa type system that he never bothered to the one the name of, but it was pretty good at voice activation. 

He knew the drive to the library fairly well, having taken this path whenever he needed to pop into surprise Barbara. Though he often suspected nothing ever surprised her. Not anymore. 

It was cute that she had decided to become a librarian, but it definitely suited her. And the library she worked at was pretty accessible, which made it easier to get around in her wheelchair. And it was helping people, not in the same way that her vigilante days had and were still going but whatever she could do she would.

Jason could relate. 

He didn't know how much it paid but it probably hardly mattered to Barbara. Her dad was still the commissioner which was a well-paying job but money had never really been the thing she was after. She just wanted to do what she could. 

It was so earnest it almost made Jason sick.

He pulled up to the library, the brickstone building looking inviting in the otherwise busy and decrepit streets of downtown Gotham. 

Maybe libraries just had that air to it. He slipped off his helmet and cracked his neck before making sure that he had all the things he wanted.

It wouldn't do him any good to forget his keys again. 

He dodged what looked to be a father and his daughter, who would just exited the building with smiles on their faces. The daughter was clutching what look to be a book on airplanes. 

Cute. 

Piece of consciously silenced his steps though they wouldn't ever be heard over the slight chatter that filled the comfortably quiet building. 

Shelves of books reached up about 15 ft and spanned mostly to the left. On the right there were rows of computers, mostly vacant, with a few teenagers and young adults stationed close to each other. 

He looks briefly around for a shock of red hair before a biting voice could greet him.

"As I live and breathe Peter is that you?" He turned around to be faced with Barbara Gordon smiling slightly as she spoke. 

Peter was not one of his best aliases after all it was only his middle name he knew. Though it was one who was mostly used out in public, where people wouldn't pay attention to the similarities of Bruce Wayne's dead son.

"Hey Barbie, how's it going?" She sent him an icy glare the nickname but raised her hand to indicate so-so. 

"Now ain't that the truth. Mind showing me somewhere where we can talk?" She raised an eyebrow at that, clearly figuring out that this was work related. 

He nodded twice before walking over to where he knew that the security cameras were constantly playing on loop. She had rigged it that way, the first time Jason had invaded her workspace.

A necessary precaution, at least in this world. 

"So how's it been going with you? I heard you had a couple of rough nights," remember when Jason said that he hated the amount of subtext used in rich people arguments. He didn't hate it when Barbara used it. She held a kindness and when she wanted to spoke her words with her eyes.

It made things easier.

"Oh you know, a little bit over there, a little bit over here. I did get an unusual message though," once it was certain that he had piqued her curiosity, he pulled the flash drive out of his jacket pocket. 

It was only a copy of the mysterious document he had been sent but he trusted her with it.  
What he did not trust though were the library computers. Though Barbara could easily wipe them, it would be too much of a risk that someone would look over their shoulder. 

"What is this Peter?" Barbara's voice slided down to a whisper, conscious of the few people around them. 

"I assume you've heard of the Silver Dragons, well last night I got an email detailing everything about them. And more importantly how it was connected to Drake industries," he lowered his voice as well, quickly handing her the flash drive. 

"Of course I know what the Silver Dragons are. But what do they have to do with Drake industries?"

"Something, maybe nothing but I need you to look into it," he replied, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. 

"Why?" Forget what Jason said about Barbara not asking questions. Apparently she was curious as a cat now. Though he could see why. Here was Jason, known crime boss and part time killer, giving her info on a topic she'd probably not given much thought to.

"Because if it does turn out to be something, then I might know how to take down the Silver Dragons for good," 

It was something that it crossed his mind multiple times after reading the mysterious message. The Silver Dragons may not have been the biggest player but they did their fair share of damage.

If he had been given the choice of whether or not to shut them down permanently, he knew what he'd choose. 

Was this BW person really giving him that option or merely just trying to dupe him.

"Ok, I'll look into it. I'm guessing this is the file?"

"Yep but I should probably warn you, every time you're going to click on a new section there's going to be a message pop up. I think it's from the person who sent it. It's helpful and what not but it's a bit jarring," BW was someone who had specifically been addressing Hood but they would never know that he gave it off to Oracle. 

"I'll keep it in mind. And Jason, I'll never pressure you into doing something you might want to..." She trailed off looking to her left. 

Jason followed her line of sight, meeting up with a child. Big blue eyes and black hair that had just recently been cut.

Timothy fucking Drake.

Because life just liked to screw with Jason apparently. 

He was even smaller than he looked in the picture, practically swimming in the red hoodie that looked like it had a few holes in it. He stared up at them with a blank expression startled slightly at their attention being turned at him.

"I'm sorry I was just going to wait till the end of your conversation," he said, a quiet voice peeking out. 

"No it's okay kiddo what can I help you with?" Barbara asked, turning back into an employee. 

Meanwhile Jason was freaking out over how much that kid might have heard. He could only plead they had not heard the part about his parents. That would not be good.

As Tim conversed politely with Barbara, Jason took the time to really look at him. He was sure enough to pass for 10 years old but on the little that he'd heard he was sure that Tim was going to high school this year. 

Jason was admittedly trying to be subtle and his staring but apparently the kid out of sixth sense for people eyeing him. Those big blue eyes were turned on him fully, evidently done with whatever he needed from Barbara.

Again Jason was struck by the image of a doll in place of a human.

"I like your glasses," Tim spoke, eyes trained slightly above them. To the white tuft of hair that had never taken to being dyed.

The kid was polite though he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering. "Thanks kid I got it from a convenience store in Colorado," Jason lied quickly, not wanting to give up that he had actually procured them from Bruce.

"I've never been to Colorado. I've never been out of New Jersey," Jason paused at the reply. His parents went on archaeological digs all across the world, but their son hadn't been out of New Jersey? 

It was not something he wanted to question.

He found himself questioning it anyways.

The kid seemed to notice his tenseness and must have mentally ran back through the words he said. 

"At least in America. But my parents take me special kinds of places," Tim added quickly, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie.

Now Jason didn't believe that for just one second. The kid was a decent liar, putting on what Jason had often referred to as a student smile. Polite and would get any teacher to leave your case. 

Jason got really good at those after he got adopted by Bruce. 

Jason was the self-proclaimed king of student smiles and didn't believe this little one's for a second. 

"Colorado's not much-" he waved a hand in the air to indicate something, "- it's no Gotham," 

"Nothing is," Tim spoke, at least that sentence, like someone that had been around for hundreds of years. An immortal being only there to watch the passage of time. 

It didn't help it was accompanied by a blank stare, as though Tim could tell that Jason saw right through his smile. Maybe Tim could.

Jason was struck with the realization that if this kid's parents really were behind the silver dragons, and definitely wouldn't be taken down by the legal system then he was basically signing this kid off to be an orphan. 

He shut that thought in a box, shoved in another box and pushed it down a bottomless pit. He couldn't think of that today, or any day in the immediate future.

He just gave the kid a slightly tight smile. 

Maybe it'd be alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one will be from Tim's POV so enjoy
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Questions II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim remembers his first meeting with Ivy and Harley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Allisions to child abuse and some depictions of violence and Tim makes a comment about his parents thinking that mental illness made you defective.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
To say that Timothy Drake was anxious about the information he gave to Hood was an understatement. His hands shook on the bus ride back to Drake Manor, enough that an outsider viewing in would assume he has on something. 

And well adrenaline was sort of a drug wasn’t it?

Tim had purposely dressed himself in Street clothes, rowdy tennis shoes and a well-worn hoodie with a few coffee stains on it.

If his parents had seen him in it, well Janet would have massacred him with sharp nails and cold eyes and Jack would have screamed at him about legacies. But they weren't here, only their little darling boy, they had just conspired to destroy them. 

His blue eyes were unfocused staring down at the dirty bus floor. The vehicle smelled of cigarette smoke and something rotten, most likely a dead rat that it had the misfortune of jumping on. Tim felt a little bit like a dead rat. 

Small and drowning in dark red, he posed a strange sight to anyone that would care. He was glad that none did. 

It wasn't his first time riding this bus, as it was one of the only ones that drove near the worst districts of Gotham. The bus driver was polite in the way that he didn't ask any questions. Tim didn’t know his name and neither did the driver, but he knew that he had a wife and two kids, daughters who were just starting 5th grade. 

Or maybe they were small and going into Middle School. The picture he had up on his dashboard was a little bit blurry, and maybe about 6 months old. It was the same photo every time he had gotten on the rickety bus. 

They were cute. 

Tim had, very pointless, not thought about the ramifications of his actions just yet. He knew that Jason would likely take the case. Especially with the easy to access drug information that he had put in. It's been on purpose, as Tim had known that the opioids the silver dragons were making had killed a good number of kids. 

It was calculated. In a sick sort of way, Tim thought that his mother might be proud of the way he manipulated the hood. He was decidedly not proud of himself. It was rude, feigning politeness in the notes he had programmed to pop up but using underhanded methods to get Jason to agree to his plight. 

But there was a small chance that Jason wouldn't believe him, think that his information was faulty. After all that would be no reason on record to suspect the Drakes of such subterfuge and criminal activity. Sure they weren't the nicest part of the upper crust but they didn't get involved in the scandal every six months. 

It would be, oftentimes, a waiting game. Waiting for Jason to make some sort of move and keep up his surveillance. 

Surveillance meaning the Tim got to go rooftop stalking once more. His parents were home sure, and they would likely be preparing a gala before they left to go to some foreign country again but they never really paid attention to what he was doing there. 

Hell he could probably walk out the front door and they wouldn't notice it. But it just filled him with a sense of wonder to climb out of the window and shimmy down the large oak tree that stood parallel to his bedroom. It spoke of crappy coming to age movies that he'd watch every Tuesday when he was doing his math homework. 

But he wasn't some main character. He was just a smart little kid that was playing in a pond too big for the likes of himself. 

He adjusted the uneven strings on his hoodie. A nervous tick that could only work with this item of clothing as it was the only one that still had the strings attached. They were dirty, sure, and had some evidence of being chewed on nervously. 

It was his favorite clothing item he had ever owned.

His mother would never approve. having favorites, was something she allowed but something so sentimental as a ratio old red hoodie would never benefit him in the long run.

Sentimentality was never allowed in the Drake household. A stuffed animal that Tim was growing especially fond of would have to be mysteriously lost and Janet Drake never used the same two of lipstick twice. Not that anyone would have noticed. They were all practically the same color of red.

Tim noticed.

He sometimes thought that Jack was sentimental, as when he had been snooping around in their separate bedrooms, he found a war-torn pair of boots. they had mud cake on the inside likely from some foreign place that Tim would never want to actually go to. 

Tim never saw his father wear those boots. He likely never would.

But Janet did not have time for sentimentality. Not for her husband, not for her child, and definitely not for the world. All she had time for was herself and her business.

She spent that time well Tim thought, a real entrepreneur. With the clicking of stiletto heels that were more for intimidation than looks and a biting cold look framed in red lipstick and mascara. But she had no time for senseless children.

A long time ago Tim would have cried about that, he would have pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes to try and stop the tears. His dear mother didn't have time for him. 

He wasn't going to cry today. Now he didn't have time to cry. 

He did in fact have time to think though. He could think about how long it took him to spell the fancy words he used in the notes to Jason. he hoped that it would make him sound smarter, less like a 14 year old. Jason will be less likely to trust the information if he knew it came from a freshman in high school. 

He was not likely to trust the information anyway from what Tim had gathered. That mistrust made him good at his job though so Tim couldn't exactly blame him. 

Tim's hands kept shaking. 

He didn't want to be impatient, and seemed ungrateful that the efficient Red Hood would even take a second out to read his message. He wrote in those messages he reprogrammed to pop up that he would be able to do this on his own. that she would be grateful for that help but it wasn't necessary and that he would continue investigating. 

It was a half truth crafted to make him seem more confident than he actually was. He would continue on this investigation. He had to. But it would be next to near impossible to actually prove something without outside help. To make lasting change in his parents empire he'd have to do things he wouldn't like to. Things he didn't believe he could. 

Tim clenched his hands into fists, feeling the soft texture of his hoodie. 

But he could hold out hope. Hope. It was such a strange loaded word, hope was something that can mean a hundred different things and could destroy a hundred different worlds. 

Hope was what his mother considered to be dangerous. And Janet did not consider many things to be dangerous. If she thought they were a threat they would be dealt with swiftly and quickly. Hope is not done away with quickly, nor is it easy. 

This was one of the times Tim was glad his mother had warned him off the dangers of hope. If he knew that something was dangerous, that his mother thought it so, then he could use it. 

Tim made a futile attempt to unclench his hands, to cease their shaking.

Instead of focusing on the danger of hope, he decided to turn his attention to the mindless sounds of the rickety bus and Gotham around him. 

He had learned from an early age it was not wise to get stuck in the thoughts that often swirled around in his head. They made his breath shorten, and the sights behind his eyes shift into something that wasn't there. 

The short amount of research he allowed himself to do showed that it could be anxiety. That didn't make sense to Tim. his parents had explained briefly what mental illness was, you had to with Arkham asylum being the place most criminals went these days. They called it a weakness, something that would often be taken advantage of. 

A biological defect. 

Tim didn't want to be defective. So he put those lingering gear into a box and hid it where no one would find it.   
He cleared his search history, like a teenage boy watching an adult video and never told his parents about his suspicions. 

He likely never would.

Tim prided themself on realistic goals and realistic expectations. It was realistic that his parents would be back at least twice a year but it was not realistic that they would remember his birthday. On the same line of that thought it was realistic that Jason would read that file but it was unrealistic that he'd take the case.

He was well aware of that fact and though he still held out a small dangerous fire of Hope, he wasn't stupid. Jason Todd had been trained by Batman himself and there was no one more paranoid than him.

Besides maybe Janet Drake, but she didn't count. 

Tim also prided himself on making connections when he needed to. Something ingrained in him every time he walked through shiny doors of a gala full of people who wore priceless jewelry like it was his favorite red hoodie. His mother and father had always told him that he needed to network to connect with the other children.

He did try, though it was less one-sided than neither of them putting in any effort. The children were forced to come to the event didn't want to talk to him and he didn't want to talk to them. It was a delicate balance of mutual understanding and annoyance. 

But nonetheless he got good at it, better with the adults who are willing to pinch his cheeks and call him cute names that were only a little bit unsettling. He could be small and quiet and docile and they'd fawn over him. 

It was just another thing that he learned how to do, same as learning the right way light will bounce off blood as Batman and Robin took out nameless goons. 

Now it was instinct. 

And it wasn't like he hated the people that he had to connect with. Some of the people he met on his only slightly stalkerish outings were kind and good to him. Even the ones that didn't seem like they would. 

Case in point the sirens. 

___________________________________________

Timothy Drake was afraid, terrified even. But not for himself he was safe up in his hidey hole, back braced against the cold medal of an air conditioner. He was afraid for the Man down below, the bat who was entangling again with Harley Quinn and Ivy. Or was it Dr quinzel and Dr Isley? 

He didn't know if supervillain titles overtook doctorates.

They had been teaming up more often, after Harley and the Joker finally broke up. He would warily at least say he was glad for her, the Joker wasn't abusive.. something that he would get his mouth washed out with soap for saying. 

In the dark crevices of his mind not tainted by blind hero worship, he was angry at Batman for letting Joker's crimes go basically unpunished. sure he got locked away in Arkham on bi-weekly basis but that didn't mean that he wouldn't break out as soon as he wanted to. It was a faulty game of cat and mouse one that dragged down...maybe not so innocent people but people all the same. 

Harley had got in a new costume too. This one was more pink and bright blue, with hints of yellow. It had a flashy jacket that sparkled in the street lights. Tim liked it. 

He would dare say that she looked happier, more full of life than he at first saw her. Her skin was still pale like snow with a splash of red lipstick like blood but her eyes, light blue but filled with contentment. 

One would think that Ivy was to blame. Her dark skin and long red hair that for some reason never need to be pulled back in a ponytail, and the costume that seems to be ever changing as the leaves grew around her. She and Ivy had quote unquote made it official (read like spray painted Ivy plus Harley surrounded by a red heart on ace chemicals). Before of course blowing up the place. They'd posted it to Instagram. 

Tim wasn’t sure how villains got Instagram accounts but their's was all happy pictures of surprisingly pg PDA. Holding hands in Robinson Park or getting ice cream from a confused looking vendor. 

Tim was 100% not stalking their Instagram pages but they popped up more often than not. 

He heard a surprise grunt from down below, pulling him out of his thoughts. It's Batman, as he had taken a nice hit from one of Ivy's Vines hitting him square in the diaphragm. Even with as much body armor as Tim presumed he wore that couldn't have felt nice. 

He winced in sympathy. 

Harley let out an amused snort before delivering a one-liner. Something baseball related.

He armed his camera, seeing the world through an unfocused lens. Fixing that, he was able to get a different type of picture this time. While he normally took pictures of the bats and his birds he sometimes found himself enamored by the sort of chaotic nature of some of the nicer Gotham Rogues. 

Ivy's Vines, dark green in color but standing out amongst the dark shadows of the Gotham Street creeped up the walls. Foreground check.

Harley posed with her hammer, heaving it over one shoulder. She often did that, gearing up for some sort of punchline. Middle ground check. 

Ivy let out a soft laugh at what the good doctor said though Tim had turned her out. It would provide a warm background that Tim might ,on the rare currencies he looks through his album without trying to figure out something, smile heartily at. Background check.

His camera was quiet, no click giving away his position as he took the picture silently. He had separate albums for everything, one for each era of Robin, one for both Batman and Robin usually together and the last two each dedicated to Batman himself and the rogues.

He knew which one this would go into. 

it should be noted that they were fighting directly outside of Robinson Park. Batman did his best to draw Ivy out of her Forest, but probably hadn't expected Harley to come rearing out for a good old-fashioned fisticuffs either.

They were probably having a date night. Tim had never had one of those.

The fight was coming to a close, that much was obvious. The blow wouldn't keep Batman down for long but they might have cracked one of his ribs. Ouch.

And Harley and Ivy weren't itching to get taken back to Arkham especially where the Joker had resided for the better part of a week now. Tim didn't really want them to go back either. they won't do one that much harm and nothing could be worth the price of having them sit with your abusive ex-boyfriend until you could break out again.

"Y'know bats, we might just leave you here since you kinda interrupted something," Harley's accent was painted with slight amusement and slight annoyance. 

"I second that and besides no matter how fun it is to see a man down on his knees, it'll be so rude of us to hit you while you're down," Ivy teased, her voice stretching out each word. 

Her perpetual flirtiness was different from Harley's, though they both used their quote unquote feminine wiles as a weapon. Similar to how Janet keeps them though much less cold. 

Batman said nothing instead choosing to let out what Tim thought might have been an agreeing grunt. It was hard to tell, no matter how much time you spent on these nightly excursions. 

He stood up, an almost imperceptible shake in his right leg before gracefully throwing a batarang at the street light, plunging the section they were all occupying into almost total darkness. 

Batman did always favor a dramatic exit.

"Does he always got to do that?" Harley whined, presumably making some sort of pout. 

"I didn't know you were scared of the dark Sweet Pea," Ivy teased back with what Tim would imagine a fond smirk resting easy on painted red lips.

did you always have to use flower related nicknames? Tim thought but didn't voice as he was only about two stories about them. 

Speaking of such Tim probably should have noticed the vines creeping slowly up to his hiding spot. But it was dark and there were sounds everywhere, he couldn't really be blamed for what happened next.He found himself clutching his camera, as a Vine twirled itself around his ankle. 

Oh no. 

This was not how the night was supposed to go. It was supposed to be calm, maybe getting a few prosperity shots of heroes and robes alike but now he had a known super villain’s Vine wrapped around his ankle. .

He fought to keep himself still, half resigned to his face and half frozen with fear. This would probably not end very well. 

"Sweet pea I've seen to stumble upon something," Ivy's voice called steadily getting closer to where Tim was residing. 

She was likely being pushed up by her own Vines, which was such an interesting feat considering how much control that must have taken. Now was not the time to geek out about super powers Tim reminded himself. Now is the time to be quiet and small and hope that no lasting injuries are not able to be covered up by the stolen foundation and concealer he took from Janet. They were shade too dark but they did the job they needed to. 

The vine was cool, in the wet March air. March in Gotham was always wet and cold, fog settling over the city like the pollution but cleaner and more oppressive in a way. Tim always had a weak immune system and now would be the time where his throat would get gummed up with mucus and air. It wasn't normal to have your throat clogged up by air was it?

But that was not the issue at hand, definitely not the issue at hand. Now we have to worry about the not that crazy rogue so it discovered him taking pictures of them. Now that he said it out loud at least in his head it did sound very wrong. 

Another interesting thing that Ivy could do was create some sort of glowing bioluminescence outside of her Vines. it was something that he had done sort of expensive research on, as seeing that pop up in any sort of search history was not what he wanted. It glowed a greenish yellow and lit up his petrified face. 

She brought it herself up to the roof that he was crouched on, a slightly curious expression on her face. Her brow furrowed more when she caught sight of Tim, holding an expensive camera in his hands but wearing street clothes. 

"Who are you little one?" She asked taking one step onto the roof ledge. 

Now how does Tim answer this question? He could say the truth and tell her that he's Timothy Drake, son of Jack and Janet Drake who were CEOs of Drake industries. Who were decidedly rich as shit. 

He also could give her just his first name as he did not want to get caught in another lie. He had enough of those on his plate already. It would not do many good to lie to the face of someone that could kill him with literally her mind. He was also a pretty bad liar.

Or he could just stay staring at an extremely intimidating woman like a fish. 

So far option c was making the most sense. His eyes were as big as saucers, blue seeming almost teal in the greenish light. He was quite certain he looked younger than he actually was. His hands had begun to fiddle with the edges of his red hoodie, a nervous habit she hadn't thought to break yet. He didn't exactly see the point in it as he never wore this hoodie around his parents and thus they'd never find out. 

Was he making too much movement, would that annoy or anger Ivy? All valid questions for an 11 year old to be asking at 1:00 at night. 

"I am in fact asking for your name," Ivy replied to his silence looking more amused than the annoyance Tim had thought she would respond with. 

Oh right. This was something he would definitely have to do, okay Tim now you've got to make a split second decision that might impact your immediate future, he psyched himself up for saying one word.

"I'm Tim, Doctor Isley," he was still quite unsure if Dr. titles stood above supervillain titles but it seemed like the polite way to answer.

Pamela Isley's name wasn't exactly a secret so Tim wasn't as worried about that. What he was worried about was the amused snort she let out.

"Well aren't you polite Tim," what looked to be a relaxed smirk took over her face. He could only assume, as many different things could be hidden behind one of those. She could be gearing up to punch him in the face for all he knew. No, she wouldn't do that, she'd punch him with one of her Vines.

"Thank you," he responded out of pure habit to the compliment. It was the right thing to do he assumed. 

" What the hell is going on up there, y'know some of us don't have super hearing!?" Dr. Quinzel, it's only right to call her that if he called Ivy Dr. Isley, yelled from down at the road. 

Oh right, dangerous rouge that he was taking pictures of. That's singing he had to still deal with. He really should have stayed inside tonight. 

"I found a little sprout with a camera up here Sweet Pea, do you want to see?" Oh no, that was bad. Dr. Isley was polite and hadn't moved any closer, despite the vine that was still wrapped around his ankle. 

Dr. Quinzel made some sort of approving noise before yelping. Dr. Isley had most likely picked her up with the vines. She was probably softer with Dr Quinzel fondness helping them along. 

She came into view shortly, a more exaggerated curious expression present on her face. Her eyes were wide, wider than they usually were, but eyebrows were pitched in a questioning manner. Her smile grew again that she took in the side of Tim, still glancing back and forth between the two women.

They didn't seem to be too angry or even a little bit at the intrusion of their private? battle. If anything they seemed amused at the young boy that had for all they know stumbled upon them. 

"Sweet Pea me Tim, Tim meet Harley," Dr. Isley gestured to the both of them smiling calmly. This was going a lot better than Tim had initially thought. Though it could all go downhill very fast if he messed up this interaction. Would it be polite to shake her hand or would it be too much?

"Hello Dr Quinzel, it's nice to meet you," he settled on a polite greeting {comma} one that he had repeated hundreds of times over for nameless people that he would oftentimes forget. He was very sure he wasn't about to forget this.

"Well aren't you a hoot?" Dr Quinzel responded not even bothering to hold in her laugh. It was leagues nicer than the other clowns' laugh tainted by a little bit of softness that had been gifted to her over the last 2 months. 

Tim let what he called a gala smile, onto his face but kept a tampered down. It wouldn't do him any good to smile wide in a situation like this, it'd make him look too eager. 

Should he relax his eyes a bit and make an effort to stop the fidgeting in his hands?

No he decided, the nervous look would gain him a bit more pity and he could use that if he needed to run. But he was small and weak and they were still a Vine wrapped around his ankle.

"So what are you doing up here Sprout?" Dr. Isley asked, the slightly familiar curious expression taking over her face once again. That was before she took a look down at his camera and glance back up this time sporting a knowing one.

"Do you like to take pictures?" 

Was that amusement in her tone or barely concealed anger? Either way it would be good for him right now to come out and say the truth and get it over with and maybe they won't take it in the wrong way. Or they would and he'd be screwed.

"I take pictures of Batman," he mumbled out looking down at the familiar camera. It gave him a strange at familiar sense of comfort, the grooves and divots helping relax his anxious hands. He could worry about whether or not they had heard him, as mother said he mumbled too much often. Mumbling wasn't good for a Drake.  
Mumbling did not fit a future CEO. 

But it did fit a scared 11-year-old boy you just got taking pictures of a battle.

"Really? You do? Can I see?" Dr quinzel was excited, with a wide smile taking over her features once again. That was definitely not the response he was expecting. Maybe just belief in his abilities or anger at something. He'd figure out what the reaction meant next time. That's saying he made it out of this for a next time to occur.

"I mean they're not that great, but I can only show you the ones that I took tonight. I didn't get that many good shots of Batman," he didn't mention robin, the law still biting to the core. Not to mention the connections to Dr. Quinzel's ex. 

" What did you get pictures of then sprouts?" Dr Isley's voice was strangely soothing but Tim suspected that it was meant to be. A tactic to get someone to relax. Though he recognized it he couldn't help it working. 

She didn't sound like she was about to hurt him.

"Um... Mostly you guys. I'm sorry," he needed to apologize, that much was clear. the logical part of his brain knew that it was wrong to be taking photos of people that did not know you were taking photos of them but it had just fit so right.

He looked back up at them seeing no apprehension or anger. Just excitement and curiosity. 

Tim very much liked curiosity. Curiosity was kind and led to connections that he could actually value. 

Janet did not consider curiosity dangerous, nor did she consider it something that Tim would have to hide. at least the kind of curiosity that she found while illegally smuggling priceless artifacts to America. Tim had known about that since he was seven. 

But Dr Isley's curiosity beckoned him to hand over his greatest possession and expensive camera that held so much of what gave him hope.

And so he did. As soon as the comfortable weight of plastic and metal left his hands they began to fidget again. Picking at a loose thread in the thread bear red hoodie or tapping mindlessly on his leg. 

Meanwhile Dr Isley and Dr Quinzel took looks at the pictures he had taken of them. He could only watch with what little breath he had left in his lungs knowing the breathing too loud could spark something. He could remember his father screaming at him for breathing too loud when he was hungover. Jack got drunk a lot. 

Dr Quinzel's expressions, as always, gave away the most about what she was feeling. Tim had no doubt that she was an exceptional actor and could hide anything from anyone but she didn't. Well she didn't right now at least.

Her eyes were white curiosity, lips spread and easy smiles. Her head was tilted slightly, an acute angle from what Tim remembered from math class. Every little twitch she made caused her jacket to cast light on the walls around them, kind of like a disco ball. 

Doctor Isley was much more guarded with her emotions, this life for all of her brows and the upturn of one lip the only things Tim had to go off of. It was strange how green her eyes were, the contrast against her dark skin more explicit. Tim thought, in a kind of detached way, that she was beautiful. 

Sometimes girls were pretty to him but oftentimes it was like looking at a piece of artwork in a museum. You enjoyed the composition of the piece, the colors and shapes that made up the artwork but you wouldn't fall in love with it. Tim knew that girls were supposed to be beautiful to him, as everywhere he looked, he saw girls and boys together. 

Tim had a few crushes per se but they were when he was rather young. One on a blonde girl that he met at the library, another on a boy in his 8th grade science class. They never went anywhere and were most likely superficial at best. He hadn't seen that blonde girl in over 3 months and the boy moved away shortly after Tim discovered these feelings towards him. 

"Wowzers kiddo these are great!" Dr. Quinzel's happy voice shook him out of his thoughts.

He looked back up at them not realizing that he had begun to stare at the ground. They were both peering at him with contentment in their eyes. Dr. Quinzel looked more like overbearing happiness but Dr. Isely didn't look mad. That was good right? If they weren't mad then he wouldn't be hurt, that was how emotions worked.

"Oh, thank you," Tim responded, eyes flitting in a triangle from Dr. Isley to Dr. Quinzel and finally down to his camera. He knew that they weren't his best shots but neither of the women in front of him did. 

“How long have you been doing this sprout?” Dr. Isley asked, holding the camera gently. Tim was glad she did, because if it had gotten broken, he knew that his parents would only see it as a lesson.

Here was another time where questions had multiple answers. Did hwe tell her that he’d been doing this since he was 7, small and scared and untrained. Or give a vague answer that she could draw her own conclusions from? What conclusions would they draw?  
Dr quinzel was a psychiatrist though Tim wasn't sure if her medical practice had been revoked. What was the policy for insanity? To be that she would have had to have researched the signs of anything in children. Not that Tim fought that he was wrong or that there was anything wrong with him, that was the kind of thinking that would lead him down the rabbit hole of defectiveness.

Until now even as a small child, he could not be defective. Would she instead question where his parents were? That would certainly not lead to anything good as he might have to explain the fact that they were in Peru and would be for the foreseeable future. This time they hadn't given him a timeline for when they would be back and it scared him a little.

Not that he'd ever admit to it. Admitting to be afraid would mean that he would lose and a Drake did not lose. 

Would she assume the worst or would she assume absolutely nothing? Tim wasn't sure which one would be worse. and that's not to say that Dr Isley wasn't smart enough to make her own assumptions, but just human children want akin to plants in many ways. 

Or perhaps they were as they both needed food and water and space to survive. 

"A long time Dr Isley," the vague answer slipped out of his mouth before he allowed it to, his tongue evidently making the decision for him. Oh well, it was out there now, and they could draw their own conclusions how they wished. 

"These are pretty good, but I don't see that many of Batman?" Dr Isely asked one eyebrow raising in amused confusion. Tim had never been able to raise one eyebrow, both of them getting stuck up there like dark caterpillars. But of course she could do it, Tim wasn't sure there was much that she couldn't do.

"Oh well I don't usually take pictures of Batman when he's losing," Tim mumbled out fidgeting with his hands once more. 

Dr Quinzel let out a snort.

"Now that be too damaging to his big reputation wouldn't it?" She teased a proud smile on her face. Tim didn't get it. Why would she be proud, they were just pictures? Not only that, but she had no idea that they were being taken. And even he knew that was a big no-no. 

It hadn't ever stopped him before though. 

"I'm really sorry," he rushed out, hands coming out in front of him. 

He did have a lot to be sorry for, especially to these two. Out of all the Rouges, they were the ones he had the most pictures of. It may have been because they were the calmest, some of the least murdery, but they made up a good 60% of his album. 

"Why?" Dr Isley inquired, taking on a calm stance. It was exaggerated for his benefit but he appreciated it anyway. 

"Um... I was y'know taking pictures of you guys and I know that isn't right and I'm really sorry about it but it's just looked so nice and I-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there kiddo. You're talking like the flash or some sh- crap. Crap. But we ain't mad at you. It's not like you's was taking pics of us changing or nothing. If anything that's are pretty sweet," Dr Quinzel cut him off, reassurance heavy in her voice. 

Oh right, Tim wasn't supposed to ramble. Oops. Rambling was almost as bad as mumbling, and Mom hating mumbling like it killed her puppy. Or kitten. Tim didn't know if his mother was a dog or a cat person. That seemed a little sad. 

"Oh, thank you. But I am still sorry," he tried to look absolutely but knew that it probably made him pop up like a puffer fish. 

He was much too small to look absolute without looking absolutely adorable, or so the old ladies that love to pinch cheeks at galas told him. 

Dr Quinzel cooed. Just as Tim expected, he wouldn't be taken seriously. But maybe that was a good thing, at least right now. If these two didn't take him seriously, then maybe they didn't take his pictures seriously. And that would mean they didn't see them, and as an extension him, as a threat. 

That was good right?

He looked over to Dr Isley with barely concealed expectation on his face as well. He couldn't anticipate how Dr Quinzel would react but she was different. He would not call her an enigma for that name was already taken by another super villain but it would be an apt descriptor. 

She peered back at him, not with anger luckily but not with the same blatant affection the Dr Quinzel used. He almost preferred it in a way though he never voiced that opinion. He was used to measuring responses, seeing it anytime he had to go anywhere in high society. Because high society was made to be measured. 

But she did not wear those measured expressions the same way those like his mother did, she didn't look like she was trying to hide her true motives from him. Tim was very grateful for that. 

But at the same time Dr Quinzel's blatant affections and expressions were easier to not overthink. They gave him one thing to focus on even if they were complex expressions. They didn't make him fill in the planks, though he was more skilled at it than he most likely should have been for his age. 

But he didn't see any anger nor did he see any disgust or hatred. He counted that as I win coupled with the fact that Dr Quinzel wasn't swinging her Hammer at his head and Dr Isley's Vines weren't strangling him. That was also an indicator. 

"You certainly are something, aren't you sprout?" That term of endearment was something that Tim was very much not used to. His parents called him Timothy. The people in school called him names or Tim. 

He couldn't remember the last time someone ever called him a pet name. 

He liked it. 

He wasn’t exactly sure why, as he'd always preferred when people used his real name, the shortened version of the one his parents gave him. But this wasn't tainted by mockery or annoyance. Just something kind and sweet. Something he didn't know if he deserved. 

Tim still liked it. 

"Thank you Dr Isley, though I do still apologize," he couldn't help it as he has to get that out of his system. 

"How old are you kiddo?"

"I'm 11,"

The truth slipped out before he could stop it, his traitorous tongue not even giving him time to think. He wondered if it was because he didn't sleep enough last night and hasn't had coffee, in say, about 6 hours. That could definitely be the reason because a traitorous tongue that had a mind of its on wasn't very plausible.

"Holy Moley, you're tiny!" Dr Quinzel yelped, making Tim flich minutely back. He didn't like it when people yelled. 

They both noticed.

Tim knew himself to be very small for his age, as both of his parents were not the tallest of people and he still had that baby face that he'd often thought would never go away. 

He also knew that Dr Quinzel was not trying to offend him, only stating the truth. But that didn't stop him puffing up. He wasn’t even that offended but it was a bit of a sore spot.

But that didn't give him the right to be impolite. If he was impolite, he would make him disrespectful and that was not what a child was supposed to be. A disrespectful child was a wrong child and got locked in his room for a day. 

His room wasn't here right now but these women were supervillains, they could figure something out.

"I know Dr Quinzel, but I'm sure I'll hit my growth spurt soon," that was good right? Just polite enough to not seem disrespectful but a little passive aggressive to balance things out. 

It was a term his mother, but not his father, often used for events. It worked well enough that people knew what you were doing and wouldn't comment on it. Mollifying but subtly intimidating. 

Janet Drake didn’t come of as mollifying, even the people who had only spared a glimpse at her could see it. This was a woman who was to be taken with respect, someone who would gladly destroy you for her own benefit. Tim saw it in the sharp narrowing of her eyes when a reporter asked too many questions or when Tim had gotten a C on his Biology quiz. 

She was very angry that day, even more angry than Jack was.

At least with Jack, you could tell when he was upset at you. He made it glaringly clear, yelling things that oftentimes didn’t even correlate with the problem at hand. He made a fuss over things that had happened in the past, as if he had an archive of all the things you had done to offend him. Whether it be the time you were to loud when he had a hangover (citing disrespect and bratiness) or when you got in the way of him throwing a bottle (stupid and without qucik thinking)

Both women definitely seemed to notice it, sending each other a glance (did they think that Tim couldn’t see?) Not that Tim minded, it was fascinating to watch their silent conversation. The needy part of him long to be that close to someone. 

“Say Kiddo, how’d you like it if we got down from here, y’know it is mighty cold, and we can head over to me and Red’s humble abode?” Dr. Quinzel asked, shocking Tim. They wanted him to go to Robinson park? With them?

Seeing how the interaction had gone thus far, there was only about a 30% chance that this was a horrible trap and they were going to kill him when he got there. Still a chance thought. 

“I don’t mean to be rude Dr Quinzel but, why exactly?” Tim couldn’t help but ask. A vials question, one Tim would like to get an answer to before he went anywhere. He knew all about stranger danger, not that his parents had told him. 

“Cause you’re cute and I wanna talk smart about pictures, I used to take them when I was in college y’know,” Dr. Quinzel answered as Tim looked for a hint that she might be lying. 

If she were, he was moderately confident in his abilities to tell, after all, growing up in high society means that you couldn’t not not know the standard tells for a sugar-coated dishonesty. You’d be thrown to the wolves dressed in pearls for anything less. 

But she didn’t look like it, though her therapist training could play someone roll in it.

“YOu used to take Photos?” He asked, not confirming or denying their request. 

“Yeppers, I got pretty good at it to, I’m sure I could dig them up from somewhere if I really tried,”

Tim only needed to nod once, this time at Dr. Isley, before being sweet down with the same kind of gentleness that he had assumed Dr Quinzel was handled with.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Tim was shook from his memory when the bus driver called out his stop. It was a general location, nice enough that he wouldn’t get jumped (mostly likely as this was still Gotham) but not rich enough that anyone would get too suspicious.

He was lucky it was only about a 15 minute walk to the desolate Drake Manor. HIs parents would be out for the evening, an “adult gala”, which Tim now suspected to mean Silver Dragons business, taking up their attention. He wouldn’t call himself greatly that they were spending the little time they had put away for Tim doing criminal activities but it definitely made it easier to sneak in.   
There was an old tree, still alive thankfully, one of the only ones that surrounded Drake Manor that hadn’t been cut done. He had convinced them to live it 2 years back, citing how the leave turned out amazing in his photos. At the time he scarcely believed that they’d buy it, but he’d gotten rather good at lying to his parents now. Much better than he had been six months ago when he started this investigation. It had been exceedingly difficult to look them in the eyes and tell them he wanted to take on Drake industries as soon as he could. 

There were multiple meanings to take on. 

But at that point he was barely grasping at straws, he didn't have the multitude of research and information that he had now and the weight that came with it. He had learned over the time his parents had taken an exceedingly long trip, this time 4 months, how to deal with that weight. 

Maybe it wasn't easy, bearing down on his soul like lead. 

But he had to do it, stubborn as wanted to be, he was still a child and children were supposed to love their parents. 

Tim was supposed to love his parents. 

He shook his head as if to physically dislodge the racing thoughts inside it before beginning to scale the tree once more. The past he took was familiar, providing him a lukewarm sort of comfort. His hands didn't ache as much as when he was nine years old and it tried to climb back up at one night nor after he had fallen in an alleyway and scraped up his palms when he was 11.

It was a striking reminder how long he had been doing this, how long he had been lying. Of course he would get good at it. He has been doing this for upwards of 7 years now. 

But he had no time to dwell on the dishonesty within himself for he had to dwell on the dishonesty within his family. 

The summer green leaves tickled his face as he grabbed on to one of the smaller branches, he knew that it would support his weight but it always gave him the thrill to grasp at it. 

He should name the tree. Or would naming the tree give up its own personal autonomy? 

Well he couldn't very much ask it and he didn't know what language trees spoke. He faintly remembers a movie telling him that trees spoke the language of wind. Wasn't that the same language that Batman and Robin's cape spoke fluttering almost silently when they wanted them to but announcing their presence when desired?

The logical majority of his brain bit back that trees nor capes spoke any language as they were just items. He for once pushed it away and focused on opening his window. It did not make any sound, a well-oiled part of the machine that made up the pristine Drake Manor. 

He did not scrape the mud off of his shoes. 

A little win for him he supposed, a small infraction compared to the multitude of rules he was breaking. 

He found himself not caring much. 

He didn't have time or energy to care, at least tonight, the adrenaline high starting to wear off as he slid his tennis shoes off. His parents would be back early in the morning and they wouldn't invite him to breakfast. 

It was still summer vacation and he did not need their false pleasantries at this point. Sure he may have still found himself longing for them when he woke up shaking and crying, seeing the falling bodies of John and Mary Grayson but nonetheless he had learned well. His parents did not offer open affection unless they needed something, needed to appear as a happy family for the cameras or needed him to stay quiet.

His quietness would soon be their downfall and he did not feel a sort of satisfaction of that, he couldn't.

He barely had the energy to collapse on top of his bed, the covers pulled taut, a dark gray and cool blue becoming a portal in the left corner of his room. Drake Manor was all cool tones contrasting sharply with the warmer tones of Wayne manor, a place he'd only been a handful of times. It was almost humorous to think that someone as dark and cold as Batman lived in a place so warm. But Tim supposed that was what Robin was for to provide a window into the warmness that Tim hoped Batman had.

That Tim hoped he had inside of him, the cold of Drake Manor oftentimes taking its own toll. It was a place that told you of accomplishments, that created around prices artifacts that were obtained immorally. it almost seemed to pray you around like you were an artifact in this home, no this museum. 

Tim was rather young to be an artifact and he wasn't in the special wing of Drake manner that housed Jack and Janet's prized possessions. 

He didn't even sleep in the same Hall that they did, the bedroom next to him only being taken up when Mrs Mac needed to stay over. That didn't happen often though, as she wasn't paid to watch him sleep only to clean and make sure that he wasn't dead.

Don't don't get him wrong Tim was very grateful that she was there, the only human interaction he had without school and his nightly excursions. She may have not been ever a parent to Tim but he often considered her a friend, but Tim already had two good parents so why would he need another one? He had two parents, maybe not good but they were there at least. 

That's more than he could say for so many people. 

Tim went through the relaxation techniques Selina taught him, when he had a breakdown at her apartment, over something small and inconsequential. She didn't make fun of him or break him feeling that way, no, she only taught him to relax one body part at a time and help himself sleep.

It didn't always do the job sometimes he was too high strung to even consider falling into the sandman's spell. Why haven't there been a villain in Gotham called the Sandman?

Selina had taught him a great many things, whether it be for his own mental health or learning how to crack a safe.

He should visit her tomorrow, after taking a visit to the library where Barbara Gordon worked. He didn't know what she had gone to do after she left the cape scene, The Joker rendering her paralyzed. And he knew that she could hold her own but wanted to check on her anyways.

Barbara Gordon was most likely one of the strongest and smartest people he had ever met though they're not interacted, at least with her knowing that much. 

She held this sort of overwhelming sense that she saw straight into your heart and into your motives. He almost felt bad for the criminals who were subjected to it.

Almost.

She was quite sure that she was still helping out the bats in one way or another, as whenever he did his checkups to her library she still had that sense of paranoia but heroism around her.

It was almost a bat staple.

He would do that tomorrow, leaving early in the morning, knowing that his parents wouldn't question where he was going. If you left early enough they almost forgot about him if they didn't need something. The library opened at 8:30, giving him ample time to get a cup of coffee from the Starbucks near there and maybe a pastry. He'd stop by to see if any trouble was happening and then high tail it to Robinson Park.

He had been meaning to see you Dr Quinzel and Dr Isley again, though they might be hiding out in one of the abandoned apartment buildings surrounding the perimeter of the park. You couldn't exactly get good cell reception in the forest and a new episode of their favorite TV show was coming out tomorrow. 

He had missed the last ones so it would be good to catch up.

And then he would visit Selena, to maybe train for a little bit or to just relax and pet her cats. She was a delightfully amazing teacher, never pushing him too hard but not treating him like he was a child. when she had found out about his nightly outgoings the first thing she set out to do was teach him how to jump from rooftop to rooftop.

He was rather good at it if he said so himself, the four years of practice giving ample opportunity to improve his technique. She had also taught him how to appraise things, to see whose jewels were truly real at the galas he was dragged to. from there he could send who was having money troubles that they wanted to keep quiet and whether or not his parents knew about them. 

It was almost a game.

She had offered to him the option to become her apprentice per se, to dawn a fake pair of ears and help her out on some easy jobs. he admitted that it sounded like something he desperately wanted to do, maybe to fulfill the childish fantasy of being a hero. he had turned her down but it was a lingering thought in the back of his head, and she didn't stop training him which was also a plus.

Yes that's what he could plan for tomorrow, an eventful day with the people he preferred.

Why didn't he just prefer his parents?  
His alarm woke him up the next day, sharply at 7:00. On school days you have the tendency to wake up at around 6:30 but gave himself a little leeway on vacation. it would do him no good to be exhausted during the day though he often was if he didn't get caffeine in the system. Even if he slept enough and drank ample amounts of water he was still exhausted. He would call it chronic fatigue if it didn't mean he would be defective and as was previously stated that was not something that he wanted.

No he would just trudge through the morning before opening up to the muggy summer air. 

his parents were still asleep of course as they often were after their quote unquote adult galas period he didn't want to wonder what they did during them because he knew that they wouldn't be good and he already had enough to worry about what they had gotten up to. He had seen enough dead bodies.

He was still wearing the same clothes from last night, his favorite red hoodie and a pair of tattered up jeans, that probably shouldn't have been the most comfortable to sleep in. Though they were better than the few times he had fallen asleep in his suit, getting yelled out the next morning for wrinkling it.

He did not like that. 

He thought about going through the front door briefly before deciding to just climb out of the window once more. 

Even if his parents were asleep he couldn't take the risk. they wouldn't go looking for him, at least not today, as previously stated they were too exhausted from the adult gala the night before. He wondered if the routine following those events would be considered a weakness in his mother's eyes and if she had tried to break herself from it.

His father probably would have been drinking and hangovers were not fun to deal with from what he had heard. 

He had never drank alcohol but Selina and Dr Quinzel had shared over dramatic stories about splitting headaches and aspirin. They were obviously made to deter him from drinking copious amounts of alcohol but Jack had already done that for him. 

Dr Quinzel preferred fruity drinks, painting your lips with sweetness so you didn't even taste the bite of the whiskey or vodka. Selina preferred champagne and wine stuff that you'd get at a gala. 

Dr Isely didn't often drink alcohol but, same as Selina preferred wine. White wine not red though that might be expected and he was sure that Dr Quinzel teased her relentlessly for it. He could imagine her fond smile as she denied any claims and half-heartedly told her to stop. 

Tim knew what a healthy relationship looked like, having gone to that silly schools seminar about abusive ones and recognizing those abusive traits in your partner. he also knew that Dr Isely and Dr Quinzel were both arguably super villains we've taken lives in the past and would probably take lives in the future, but they were the healthiest relationship he had ever seen. 

They made each other better.

And he wasn't even going to touch what Selina and Mr Wayne had going on. The less he knew about that the better. 

He had taken about $30, stuffed into his pockets that made sure to get on the bus and guard it. Gotham pickpocketing could almost be a sport at this point, he often wondered if it was really the city's official sports. 

Because their hockey team absolutely sucked. 

Not that he'd ever utter that out loud for fear of the hockey gods striking him where he stood. Hockey gods could do that right?

He wouldn't put it past them and there was already proof that the Greek gods existed and so today aliens and superheroes so why wouldn't there be Sports Gods? 

They had someone named Condiment King for God's sake. 

And he could definitely say that wasn't the weirdest thing to show up and Gotham in the past 20 years. That title was the topic of many online forms though the Condiment King often ranked at least in the top twenty. It might be the only list of villains where you would rank that high, as boiling hot mustard and ketchup worm certainly not fun but they weren't demented traps of the Joker or convoluted riddles of the Riddler.

He gave the bus driver his fair before sitting down in a window seat. He almost wished she had a bag to sit beside him, to ward off any strangers from sitting down there. Gotham was still a scary place even at 7:00 on a Wednesday.

And he didn't want to stretch out his legs, that being more glaringly and polite than a mere bag, but found himself doing it anyways, safety outweighing impoliteness. 

The bus ride was blissfully short as the early morning bustling wouldn't start for another say 30 minutes. Turned like buses fine they gave him ample opportunity to daydream about everything or nothing at all, but he'd much prefer to get caffeine in the system before he passed out again. 

That would not be fun.  
The Starbucks was one where he had frequented often, donning a fake pair of glasses and tying his shaggy hair up into a ponytail. Also using the name Alvin. He suspected the baristas that work there guess that he wasn't exactly using his real name but again they didn't question. Questioning things in Gotham was like being scared when Superman dropped in front of you in metropolis. 

It did no good for the immune system.

he glanced over at the bakery rack for a half a second, already knowing what he was going to buy. It was wise to stay away from the stuff that didn't meet in it as he was pretty sure that this place didn't wash their counters all the time, same with the egg products. But raspberry danishes were amazing and surprisingly hard to mess up.

"Alvin! It's good to see you again bud, you want your usual?" Clem asked a wide smile on their face. They had changed their hair again, this time a bright orange. Tim wondered if it was to reflect their new name.

"You bet Clem, and I really like the new hair," Tim answered, trying hard to disguise his upper Gotham accent. Though many people forgo the asking questions bit, that sort of rich accent would attract attention.

"I know I've said it a million times but all this caffeine has got to be stunting your growth," they grumbled but acquiesced. Tim knew his caffeine habit wasn't exactly healthy but what are you going to do? 

Tim didn't even particularly love the taste of coffee, preferring tea but drinking it all the same. Even if he did have to add a shot of caramel syrup and some foam on the top. 

"Oh, I forgot, can I also get a Raspberry Danish? I've got a busy day ahead of me." He knew that the explanation was unnecessary but he wanted to cover all of his bases. 

"Sure thing,"

Once he got out of there, coffee and danish in tow, he started the walk up to the library. 

It was short, but the streets were staying to get crowded and this was still Gotham so he was on high alert. The pickpockets in his City were ruthless and cunning, moving like the wind, you'd never even notice until something of yours went missing. 

He admired them with a sort of clinical edge, their techniques were to be admired but that didn't mean he was itching for a front row seat. 

He dodged past a group of teenagers, likely a few years older than him. They were laughing and having fun, two of the people, both wearing skirts, were holding hands. 

Cute. 

He'd never see them again nor had he before, but it was a nice reminder of the little bit of dangerous hope that still existed. 

The sky was still grey, even in the summer, though the light showed through more often during those months. He almost wished he had brought his phone with him, as he wanted to check for any news about Wayne industries.

And see if any more stories about the caped crusader had gone up. 

All normal things for a 14 year old he was sure. I mean if you lived in Gotham and didn't scour the web for any mere mention of the city superhero then were you really living? He wondered if other cities did the same. 

But Superman had those nice reporters to tell his stories, Lois Lane and Clark Kent. But wasn't writing a story about yourself considered a conflict of interest? He'd have to look up the rules surrounding that sort of thing. It couldn't be legal, though the policy around heroes and even extraterrestrial heroes was constantly in flux, so he could probably find a loophole somewhere.

And the more he thought about it, it was a good idea to be a superhero and have a reporter in your pocket. You'd be up to date on the lastest news and hear things that the general public weren't supposed to. A smart tactical decision.

Did Batman have a reporter in his pocket

Because Vicki Vale hated his guts and most of the others' opinions changed almost daily. If not, he should invest in one. 

He arrived in the front of the library in due time, the pleasant building a warm comfort. There was a motorcycle parked outside, a nice looking harley that seemed well loved. Tim was sure he had seen it somewhere, but couldn't quite place it. Ah, so the caffeine was finally taken effect and his detectiving brain was starting to work over time again. 

It seems that it only had two modes, off (when he was exhausted) and 100% on (all of the other times). It wanted to find mysteries wherever he could even if there was nothing to be found there. 

He had seen plenty of bikes around the city, most of them looking similar. That was it and he should focus on what he came here to do.

Right, check on Ms. Gordon, then go see where Dr Isely and Dr Quinzel were and go visit Selina for training. He had a plan and the basis of a to-do list and he wanted to stick to it at least for now. He walked in trying to spy a lowered head of red hair over the patrons. There weren't many luckily, as it would be easier to find the woman. 

They hadn't talked much besides her trying to help him find some books occasionally. She seems nice calm and wanting to help which was what Tim had initially assumed. But it was nice for it to be confirmed. 

Cute seeing people give her pity and a little bit of disrespect, due to her disability, but she took it with the same kind of passive aggressive smiles as his mother had. He found himself liking hers more. Maybe because her's were always followed by a scathing remark that would but anyone done to the bone, or because she always walked away with self respect. 

It was cool as shit. 

As it was a library, there was only quiet chatter, almost like radio static, so he heard her voice from someone in a corner. Okay, now time to get in, see if she was okay and head out. 

It wasn't like he didn't appreciate this part of his routine but she was clever and would catch on to someone checking in on her on a regular basis. She knew that she'd recognized him, it was hard not to with the public publicity his parents received. He was the only child of the Drake's and therefore their heir which meant he was often present when his parents had to make a speech or something. Even with his subpar disguise (it had worked for Clark Kent) and him trying to change his voice, he saw the glimmer of recognition when they talked. He quickly swiped a book off a shelf, some fiction novel that he had never read and didn't really intend to. It would give him a good cover if he needed to talk to her,that is if she wasn't already talking to someone.

And he was, a lower Gotham accent frosting over a deep voice. Well wasn't that just absolutely peachy. 

Jason fucking Todd.

The Red Hood. The man, he just sent an email detailing his parents misdeeds. Tim thought that he didn't interact with the bats anymore, as he had a few pictures of them fighting. But Ms. Gordon wasn't a bat anymore so did that put her in a different section? Maybe former bats got special treatment, or maybe it was just her. 

"Of course I know who the Silver Dragons are. But what do they have to do with Drake Industries?" Oh so it was a consulting call {comma} he probably wanted to make sure that Tim's information is good {period} and to be expected though Tim didn't know exactly why Ms Gordon was the one that he went to. 

Tim wasn't angry per se he had to give him that information freely and Jason had the right to do with it what he wanted but I hope that this case wouldn't just get turned over to Ms Gordon's father Commissioner Gordon. He was one of the better cops in the city but he was still a cop and the same job wouldn't be done.

Did commissioner Gordon know that his daughter was the former Batgirl, swinging around and punching criminals in the face?

He hoped that the man did, for it would be a shame to have to hide that form your family. I mean it was easy for him, but his parents were never around and didn't really care, but Commissioner Gordon seemed to love his daughter though she had already flown the coop.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking and a desire for a healthy parental relationship in himself that brought that question to the front of his mind. 

Oh well. 

Oh no.

They were both looking at him, Jason wearing a pair of sunglasses, likely to disguise his peculiar green eyes, a product of the lazarus pit. Ok, so what if Tim did a little research on the JLA's databases. It was their fault for not having better security. 

He felt himself startle, quickly deciding to play the quiet child that was meek and nervous. An honestly easy character to play, as he was faced with Jason, former Robin and now Crime Boss. Yeah he was internally freaking out, but he passed it off as just having gotten caught. 

Ms. Gordon asked him what he needed, as Tim thanked Dr Quinzel for teaching him about improv. All of those skills would be handy right about now as he asked her about something computer related. 

"I'm really sorry but can you explain how to connect to the printers, I have a summer school assessment due and the printer at my house is broken," 

A complete and utter lie, as there were in fact, five printers in Drake Manor, one is Janet's study, one is Jack's study, one is the basement and the final one in Tim's closet. 

But she didn't know that, and he passed for around 10 years old so it was a bit plausible. 

"Oh it's no problem, see there a multiple printers in here, thankfully next to the computers-" Jason was looking at him "- and they all have the same name, when you hit the print button on the computer it should be the only name that pops up, okay," 

Jason knew who he was, he had to with the way Tim could feel eyes burning into the back of his skull. Why wouldn't he? After all he was a Drake and though he made sure not to mention himself much in the document, he was sure that Jason could do his own research. 

He said a polite goodbye to Ms. Gordon before turning around to face him. 

Jason was much taller up close. Like this man had to be 6 ft. He also didn't break eye contact with Tim, meeting his gaze head on. Tim had been told many times that he looked owlish when he stared like that, but he couldn't help it. 

The one and only other time he had gotten this close to Jason Todd was when a bullet of his almost hit his camera. He was watching a state out, some drug bust that Selina warned him about when the Red Hood would up out of nowhere. 

The fight that had occured gleaned some amazing pictures for his Rouge album.

His eyes were drawn to the tuft a white hair that almost touched the top of his aviators and he was cordially aware he had been staring for too long. Time for another excuse, something that wouldn't attract any attention.

"I like your glasses," he said instead of you know, holy shit you're Robin well not anymore and now you kill people and I'm a huge fan and would you like to see the pictures I took of you? 

Yeah, the glasses thing was a much better comment. 

He found himself slipping up, telling them both that he had never been out of New Jersey. It was true but as far as they knew, he parents took him for every trip that they went on. 

Shit. 

They couldn't have missed that, so he quickly backtracked, and told them about his lack of experience in travel in America. His smile wasn't the most convincing and he knew that Jason didn't believe him. 

He took a silent breath when Hood didn't push it. 

But now it was definitely time to go.

Didn't want anyone catching on right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Jason continues to search for answers
> 
> Thanks for reading


	5. A Day Out- I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Goes about his to-do list and has a conversation on a roof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: References to Sexual Assult, Underage Prostitution and Child Abuse
> 
> Sorry this was late, though all of the other chapters will be posted bi-weekly

That kid... Was going to be an issue. That much was clear at least. sure he was friction from the upper parts of Gotham and probably never seen the sort of problems that the kids Hood usually cared for but he was still a kid.

A kid whose parents might be crime bosses which did not exactly sound like the best home life. That admittedly did complicate things but Jason didn't even know if the information was good yet. 

He'd have to wait to panic about small rich children later. 

"You recognize that kid?" He asked Barbara when he was sure that Tim was out of his hearing range. Hearing adults quiz each other about you would not make anyone feel particularly stable even if the kid didn't know anything about their nightlives.

"That was Timothy Drake wasn't it." She didn't phrase it like a question, watching the short boy go off the same as Jason. Of course Barbara knew who he was, she knew everything. The indomitable Oracle. 

As soon as he disappeared in the now growing sea of people they turned back to each other. Though Jason's eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses, he could guess that Barbara knew what he was thinking. Her mouth was set in a grim line with her eyebrows subtly furrowed. This was decidedly not good. Timothy Drake was the only child of Jack and Janet Drake the heir to Drake industries and subsequently ,that being if this information was correct, possibly the heir to the silver dragons.

That tiny boy with big eyes could, in the next 20 years, take over part of Gotham's criminal underworld? he could be being groomed by his own parents to be a criminal. It didn't make sense to Jason though he had seen the dichotomy of nepotism in criminal families. Rich people were a mystery to him still.

Barbara looking down at her clasped hand. It held the flash drive with the mysterious email from BW. she would undoubtedly have an answer quickly, with the amount of connection she had she might even be able to tell him who BW was.

And wouldn't that be a treat, seeing as BW might not have known his identity but if Jason could figure out what theirs was it would put them at an advantage. He desperately needed an advantage if this person could deposit information onto his personal laptop. That was bad news.

"You know much about him? Tim, I mean," Jason asked, absent-mindedly running his hand over the spines of the books. 

"The Drake's weren't ever on my radar really but I know he's an only child and that he goes to a public school. I only met him once, at a charity ball with my dad. Seemed quiet, reserved, a little curious maybe," she answered not meeting Jason's eye. Normally he'd be annoyed by it but Barbara needed time to collect your thoughts and Jason didn't exactly blame her.

Kids didn't exactly make things difficult per se but they had to go somewhere after the job was done. 

"Yeah I don't know much about him either. Just that he's 14 I think that we could easily pass for 10 or 11. Seriously what are they feeding that God damn kid?" 

Barbara let out of stifled snort, a pained smile taking over her face. She finally met his eyes again, eyes sharp with determination. 

"Do you think he's involved with this.. Peter?" it seemed that she needed a second to remember what name he was using at this point, to not slip up and call him Jason. Barbara didn't slip up often which meant this was really affecting her. 

"No.. I don't know. I hope not," he sighed out going to rub the bridge of his nose before hitting the metal rim of his glasses. He really did hope that this kid wouldn't get caught up in his possible parents misdeeds but it was a real option that he'd have to look into. 

The kid didn't seem guilty of any heinous crimes, he just looked like a kid and Jason really needed to calm down.

The green had started to come in on the edges of his vision, hazing his surroundings. Kids affected him a lot, they always had even when he was Robin and now as Red Hood he's made it his mission to help them.

Wasn't that why BW contacted him in the first place?

"I tell you what Peter, I'll take off my shift early, look at this information as soon as I can. Hopefully I'll be able to verify it pretty soon," Jason knew she was genuine in the way only she could be. A promise of getting this little case to the top of her queue was not something to be taken lightly.

She nodded twice, a common goodbye when his emotions got too difficult to handle. He didn't want to blow up in her face, it wasn't her fault about this kid.

It was no fault but the parents, or it was nobody's fault at all if this case ran cold. And Jason swore if he was getting punked by some guy he would find him -them- and put a bullet through their brain. 

The Red Hood did not take lightly with liars, and if some little twerk got it in their heads that they could fool him well then they needed a wake up call.

Simple as that.

Walking out of the library and into the slightly pleasant Gotham day was a chance for him to take a breath, a reprieve from the thoughts running through his head. It wouldn't do him any good to get too strong when he was about to drive on the busy Gotham streets. 

Traffic laws were about as abided by as regular laws in Gotham and it had never really bothered Jason before. It was just another thing to get energy out. Sure he'd liked it more when he could actually feel the wind in his hair but he settled for feeling it tickle up his forearms.

His finger pads were numb as he had burned his fingerprints off long ago. Well not so long as it had been after he took a dip in the green Kool-Aid period if he had done it before then, while he was robin, They would have grown back. At least that was his basic understanding of the mechanics of the place.

And besides even he knew, in his green minded state, Bruce would have never let him do it.

And that was a thought thread that he was going to stop in its place before he broke something. 

He slid the dark red helmet back on finding a sense of familiar comfort. Of course he didn't make it the same color as his quote on quote Hood but it functions the same,and gave him the same sense of security. You still didn't know why dear old b man had let the children go out without some sort of head protection. Just a little flashy diamond now, they could have been literally shot in the head at any point.

The streets had gotten busier in his time at the library. Gotham is finally starting to wake up. He couldn't hear much, the helmet blocking everything but the slight sound of the wind. Even the best noise canceling headphones wouldn't be able to to block all of it. And even though he couldn't, Jason could still imagine the sounds. 

People chatting aimlessly as they walked down the street and birds, likely crows, diving down with a call to pick up food someone had dropped though New York City had already taken the title, of the city that never sleeps Gotham could definitely usurp it's throne. Maybe that was the Jersey in him talking. 

It was right in the sweet spot of Gotham mornings, before the traffic would inevitably settle in and cause at least one fistfight on the street, but after the initial rush of the early shifters, the factory workers and unlucky retail clerks. Jason wasn't a morning person and he only met one guy that was.

Though thinking about Dick Grayson usually stir those negative thoughts he was working to keep down.

Whatever the point being was that there was a Goldilocks few minutes of morning and Gotham that was just busy enough to keep out the oppressive silence but didn't overload your senses with the populace.

The Gotham populist, scum and vermined a lot of them but all United under one horribly beautiful city. Jason wasn't one for waxing poetic about the place he was raised in, the place that it hurt him the most besides you know  _ Ethiopia _ but it has a sort of dirty charm. It's underbelly made you want to puke and stab someone and it's upper classmate you want to poison someone. It just brought out the murderous urges and everyone. 

Except the big Man on top, not God but the batman, The Dark Knight, the Caped Crusader. Jason could hear himself off under the helmet, rolling his eyes for only himself to see.

Though it was a comfort that Babs was working on this case, because she was the smartest person he ever knew. She worked efficiently, more efficient than the people at the gcpd and was a little bit more flexible in her moral code than Bruce was. She didn't kill, but didn't condemn him for killing. And being one of the only bats that he had ever gotten along with, before the resurrection she was at least better than Dick and after she gave him a chance.

And now she was giving this case a chance, for him again Jason did sincerely hope that it would just turn out to be nothing fake news that he would have to deal with later but the other part of him knew that he had that Todd luck to work off of.

And one had things ever gone his way.

He didn't really have a to-do list for today having to wait on more information from Barbara but he did have a few laboring things he could get done. Maybe he could check on a few more of his information brokers, some more unsavory than Oracle but they did get the job done and he did in fact have a few open cases, nothing major but things that deserve at least 20% of his attention. 

There was one about a few underlings in Penguin’s gang that were starting to cause trouble. He didn't like Penguin, he was rich, old and Petty but his employees were particularly vicious; they seem to revel in the violence of hurting people in the lower sectors of Gotham and well that didn't really fly for the Red Hood. He really didn't want to have to quote unquote do business with the old man but if he wasn't aware of his underlings then someone had to make him aware. not that Hood wanted to be seen as a messenger boy or anything. 

But sometimes it worked out that way. They weren't technically enemies but they didn't exactly have an alliance, and if penguin decided to mess things up in Jason's territory he had to pay. But penguin was a coward most of the time and stayed out of his way unless there were others who were causing enormous amounts of chaos. For someone who has tried to make a name for himself he really was a bit of a follower. Jason snickered to himself, thinking of the last time penguin decided to try and strike out on his own, taking underage kids to be his runners.

Jason wouldn't say he didn't enjoy breaking his arms and the arms of the people who had taken those kids, before putting a bullet in every one of those brains and in Penguin's kneecaps.

It was almost ironic how when the Stout man tried to get revenge by attempting to blow up one of Hood's known Hangouts that it completely and utterly backfired (with the help of a few informants). And the only casualties were ones who had their hands covered in the blood of less fortunates.

So technically a win-win and he suspected that Penguin wouldn't want there to be a repeat of the last time he pissed off Hood.

So that would be settled he'd check in on some of the girls in Crime Alley first, who like to give information in exchange for safety but we're truly someone who considered.. friends. He knew working girls like them when he was a kid, though he doubted that they remembered him. And some of them were likely dead. Crime Alley did not breed longevity and he had seen little memorial they put up for the second Robin

It pissed him off a little bit when he saw it but it was better than the one Bruce had put in the back cave, this one was for someone who the people recognized were like them who spoke the same way that they did. 

Not just a soldier.

Jason manually untightened in his fists from his motorcycle, not even registering the slight bite of discomfort that came with it. Though he had gotten better at controlling his physical responses to anger the hot seat of rage oftentimes still flow through him. Especially when thinking about that dumb glass case that was supposed to be for a dead man. 

A dead boy.

Well he wasn't dead anymore, he was alive and angry and had things to do. and it wouldn't do him any good to think about the past when he had his entire second life to worry about more cases, more violence more sweet sweet blood to spill.

He pulled up to his safe House, the apartment building less looming and more like a friendly giant, like that Roald Dahl book he had to read in middle school. He still preferred the real classics, Jane Austen and the like but he distinctly remembered thinking that Bruce was, in his early years when he was still a stupid kid, a lot like a big friendly giant.

Shit he was almost as tall as Bruce now. 

And it was good that he had gotten home now, his leather jacket was starting to stick to his arms. He probably should have worn a longer shirt, maybe one with 3/4 sleeves instead of a t-shirt. It was a cool t-shirt some band that he had listened to a while back printed on the front. 

Jason had never been one to go to concerts or anything like that but he enjoyed music all the same. It was small comforts as they say having the music able to drown out some of his thoughts and no he didn't prefer screamo or something like that, actually more getting into Riot girrl and folk punk. He had one of his ex-boyfriends to thank for getting him into that one and Kori to thank for the other one. 

Who would have guessed that an alien space princess would have liked Bikini Kill?

He was pretty sure that Dick guessed.

He hopped off the bike, taking the key out and slipping it into his back pocket. He was semi confident that no one would steal it, at least in this part of town. He was still in the same Safe House that he had gotten the BW message in. It probably wasn't the best idea to stay there and he'd probably be relocating soon, maybe to test if this BW person could track him.

It would be an absolute nightmare if they could but it'd be good to know.

and how did he know that this BW was only one person, it could be an organization of people. That would definitely put a monkey wrench in the works, why wouldn't an organization need to reach out to someone like him, wouldn't they have agents of their own. If they didn't then they probably want that very great job place or operation but he had been assuming this entire time that it was just one person.

If it was an organization, then BW had to stand for something that much was obvious at least. He had been thinking that BW stood for a name or two nouns that described the messenger. 

Sort of like the JLA.

But what would BW stand for?

Maybe bitching witches, or baby wombats. a man could hope for baby wombats though sentient baby wombats that delivered incriminating evidence would be absolutely terrifying. 

he was half surprised there wasn't a super villain that had a wombat theme after all many of the other animals were already taken. Someone had even been called the zebra at one point.

That was a very strange 3 weeks.

If BW was an organization maybe Oracle had heard of them. It would certainly be helpful if she had as maybe she could figure out a way to actually contact them and see what their motives were behind giving Jason this information. Hell maybe he'd be to call them and ask what the hell was up.

But he was reminded of what was put in those pop-up messages that BW had written, that they said that this case is very close to their heart. That implied that they were independent in their actions. They hadn't said this case is very close to our heart which could imply that there was more than one person working on this case.

Okay so it was probably one person, that was 5 minutes of Jason's life that he was never getting back and he was still standing outside of his apartment building.

He really needed to get focused.

Because there was no time to be wondering over strange non organizations when he had plans for the day, land that he had not run down anywhere and it only made up on the drive back.

Isn't that what all great men do, fly by the seat of their pants and hope for the best? She knew that most successful people had plans and it would be probably beneficial for him to plan most things but this was just a waiting day, but otherwise normal day except for the anticipation of Oracle's message.

Suiting up in his Red Hood gear was a familiar ritual that gave him ample time to think. Strapping on the Kevlar body armor, they gave him a little bit of padding, one should never reveal their true measurements on the field. and if it made him look just a little bit more intimidating than no one had to know after all he was pretty sure that Batman's armor was patted, no man had that big pecs. 

it was an enormous amount of buckles and whistles though, why exactly did you decide to have three belts, not minding all of the holsters that slide around his shoulders and his waist. There had to be a better way to do that, something more efficient. It made getting out of it a pain, taking a valuable time that he could use to work on other things. But it was all in all worth it as it did make a pretty scary image.

The neutral to dark tones of the rest of his outfit minding the red bad on his chest contrasted even more with the bright shiny blood red of his helmet. The white out eye holes a little leftover bit of his Robin costume though he wasn't itching to remind himself of those days, and the dark back paint around it looking a bit like eyeliner he had to admit. though the light brown jacket was a bit of an interesting choice, the collar popping up even when he didn't mean it to. And he should really get new combat boots. 

They likely weren't meant to survive jumping onto rooftops much and it was slightly surprising that they hadn't come out with the line of boots specifically made for vigilantes, it sounded like something capitalism would do. monopolize on the people saving your life besides the merch that Jason had seen pop up in every single store. 

hell he has seen some of his own merch in there though he didn't exactly get why, Batman and Robin he could understand they were quote unquote Gotham's heroes but him? It just didn't track, though the Red Hood shaped helmet mug that Roy had gotten him for April's fool's day did keep his tea warm.

Well designed but frivolous and exactly what he needed.

There was a car alarm going off outside, something he'd probably check on if it didn't shut up before he got out there it was quiet but annoying and repetitive though he had been someone who tried to steal cars before and it was a delicate work when the alarm went off that both of fear that went through you as soon as it blared out as you swiveled your head around to see if anyone had come out to look for the annoying noise. Did the batmobile have a car alarm?

Hell it was probably that old jingle that some asshole made up for a parody show, one that Jason had loved, as it made fun of both Bruce and Dick. And making it set in the 60s was a nice touch. It sounded like something Babs would wake up to get back at Dick. Being in the dog house and their relationship was nothing to scoff at and if he didn't know any better he would pity the poor Golden boy but he did and so he merely laughed.

He finished suiting up, slipping the helmet on and waiting for the calm channels to come on again he knew that Babs knew that he was monitoring the bat chat as he called it and she did nothing to stop him. But she could at any time lock him out and probably wreck his systems, if it was so easy for someone to deliver an email on his personal laptop then Babs was well in her rights to trash everything he owned. 

And it wasn't like he was going to come to their rescue or anything he was merely meaning to make sure his patrol routes divert from theirs if he wasn't itching for a fight that is. But if they happen to stumble near his territory and were making some ruckus then he'd have no choice but to check on that. Hopefully with a gun. Small mercies and all that.

The car alarm had thankfully stopped, so he didn't bother to pay it much attention as he climbed out his apartment roof once more of course he quickly scanned his surroundings for any cameras or pesky photographers like that one he had seen as Robin. 

It had been a long time ago and he didn't really remember much about the kid who looked a few years younger than Jason at the time. And you disappeared before Jason could tell Batman and Jason, being the boot licker that he was in his younger years didn't want to piss Bruce off with things that he couldn't even remember if they really happened. 

God how times have changed.

satisfied that there was no one going to see him climb out of a dirty apartment window in the mid class of Gotham he pulled out his grappling gun and swung over to the next building. His apartment had been on the fourth floor out of six so he had to get up to the roofs to start running. 

Again he half missed the wind in his hair as he did, but felt a spark of anger at the lack of head protection that the Robins had and still were lacking. It just wasn't good design and Bruce had a cow that was definitely bulletproof but the child soldiers that he took apparently didn't deserve the same assurances. If anyone was seeing him which they weren't they would have caught the illustrious Red Hood rolling his eyes at tainted memories. 

He didn't go out much during the day, unless he had a big job to do or was making his rounds. And making his rounds he was, knowing that Babs could at any time break into his calms and give him the deets. 

Most Gotham vigilantes works best at night, not like metropolis or Central City where the Bradley colored supers interacted with the public in a less than half intimidating way. He often counted on the fact that there wouldn't be much vigilanteeing during the day, except for detective work and maybe if the rogues started causing trouble. Most of them I've been pretty quiet in recent days, as the Joker was still locked up and Arkham along with the Riddler and killer croc. And Penguin was something he was still dealing with, black mask was off the board and Harley and Ivy were...complicated.

Not that he wasn't glad that hardly had broken up with the joker, though it had caused him to go on a bit of a rampage but it was nice seeing her get out. and they've been causing less trouble as they weren't there honeymoon phase as it were, though it had lasted for over 3 years now but still good for them.

Ivy was still held up in Robinson park, though he wasn't exactly sure where Harley was staying. maybe you'd have to investigate that too just to do a friendly neighborhood check-in and make sure they weren't planning on gassing the city again. After all they were still Rouges and Rogues do what Rogues do.

The two of them hadn't teamed up with hood in any way shape or form, they never had preferred to interact more with the birds of prey, you know girl code and all that. But they all shared an unfiltered hatred for the Joker which definitely put them lower on Jason's shit list. 

and he was pretty sure there was at least one abandoned apartment building on the outside perimeter of Robinson park, smart people that decided to move somewhere less mind-controly. Even though the park was big and ivy only lived technically in the center of it people had learned to be wary of her reach period she could easily command the multitude of plants to reach out and grab someone. 

At least there were some Gothamites with a slight sense of self-preservation though they were getting fewer and fewer with every passing year. As the population grew and more criminals sprouted out of the ground like daisies. Though they had been doing their best to stop the learning curve of crime, it would never actually go away.

They all have their separate territories Hood obviously staying near the poor districts; like Crime Alley and the narrows while the bats intended to protect the middle class people and the rich folks that goodbye their way out of anything. The birds of prey spanned everywhere but didn't stray too far from the clock tower in which they operated. 

Nightwing was back in Gotham but would likely go home to Bludhaven within the next 3 months. 

Jason couldn't exactly say that he was upset about it.

Dick always looks like a sad puppy whenever the Red Hood and Nightwing ran into each other, begging him to come home or something. It was almost worse than Bruce's lectures about the greater good and what was best for gotham. What did the Batman know? All he did was trust in Arkham which almost everyone knows could be broken out of with a potato bomb.

Hell he was pretty sure someone had broken out of Arkham with a potato bomb.

The dull tug of the grappling hook counteracting gravity was a welcome sort of uncomfortableness. Jason had never figured out how he didn't break his arm every time he jumped off a roof and had to rely on a rope to keep him from dying but sometimes things work not to be questioned. And if you really were curious you could probably bribe someone for that information.

Fox still liked him right? Did he even know that Jason was alive at this point?

And he probably did, Jason hadn't believed for a second that he didn't know who Batman was. He was smart and mountain climbing gear wasn't exactly the best cover. 

Maybe the impossible physics were why getting your own grappling gun was the A-OK to finally go out and do patrol at least from what Stephanie had rented to him when they were fighting. she had only been robbing for like what two months before she finally got smart and said fuck this and went over to the girls side.

Honestly good for her, Babs was sure to be a much better mentor than an emotionally constipated middle-aged man who collects orphans for fun.

He slid down a slated sheet of metal (a poor excuse for an awning) and hoped to god that nobody was taking a nap in there. It had likely gotten blown off in the slightly magical storms that had been haunting Gotham for the past 6 months.  The bats, from what Jason had been able to steal from the nightly reports, suspected Mr. Freeze or maybe one of the weather Metas from Central City. 

Why did that City with one of the nicest weathers Jason had ever seen all of the bad forecast ones. They were better suited to Gotham's practically overcast environment and the type of chili rain that seeped into your bones even with armor doing its best to keep it out. Wasn't there one of those matters that could make the place Sunny for a day, that would be much better than this. Because Gotham Summers were all humid, with the same wetness that happened even during the dry spells of winter.

He was sure most Gothamites shared the same opinions.

It was a noticeable shift from the middle class districts down to the lower class ones. The streets had more holes and trash, more houses were boarded up with graffiti striked across the walls. 

There weren't many people loitering during the day, but from his rooftop position he could see a few Street kids dashing through realities. He had been one of those kids a long time ago, with dirt on their faces and shoes without souls.

Anyone else around and been born there would wonder where these kids' parents were unless they were a little bit smart and could guess that the parents were likely drunk, drugged up or dead.

The 3DS as a lot of the people said here.

He was about two blocks away from his final destination, an only slightly illegal establishment. it was an old dive bar that they had repurposed, name something stupid and fish themed most likely, it was run by a lovely woman going into middle age named Cerise. With curly red hair and darker skin, she certainly posed an intimidating figure and she took care of the people who had fallen into this line of work.

it was meant to be inconspicuous and it mostly succeeded, in case the police ever did there less than frequent checkups around here, the only thing that marked this as different than the rest was a red graffiti sign in the shape of a heart with an arrow through it.

After all, the establishment was named The Cupid's Arrow.

Maybe it was a little bit on the nose but it'd be best if people knew what they were getting into when they walked into those stores. Not that Hood was planning on going through the front door, a window with a faulty lock on the east side of the building would do just fine it led to a sort of lobby and most of the girls and boys were used to him coming in this way.

His helmet filtered out any of the smells and other noxious chemicals anywhere that he went but he could imagine the smell of perfume and something you need black light to see. It wasn't his first time in this sort of establishment though he was lucky enough to never have to work here.

And ever since the Hood had sworn to protect Crime Alley the boys and girls that had just reached puberty worked here less and less. Sure there were a few that needed to pay rent and couldn't do anything else but it wasn't their fault it was the fault of Gotham and the men and women who preferred their partners a little younger.

He had known a girl who had to do that, her name was Andy and she chose a different name for every person she slept with, though it was only a few before she had to deck out. They weren't the best of friends but on Thursdays they had always gone into the small Street market to pickpocket people. She was much better at it than he was but people tended to suspect the angry kid with darker skin than the pale blonde chick.

She got snatched up by someone a few years later.

He slid into the window with a surprising amount of fluidity, his combat boots making almost no noise, what little that they did covered up by a half broken air conditioner. It made a loud rattling noise that was almost rhythmic along with the pounding music that came from two doors down. The main room had a few strobe lights and a small bar with illegally acquired booze. He was even sure there was a little bit of moonshine in there.

He had never been one to drink on the job unless something was particularly infuriating but he had sampled some of the alcohol and it wasn't half bad for Crime Alley.

"If it ain't the man of the hour, Cerise has been looking for you. Says something about how you've been late for the past two weeks," A younger person, Jason couldn't really tell what gender they were spelled up from the corner of the lobby.

He didn't know their name but had seen them around, one of the dancers that work the evening shifts. He had a certain amount of respect for anyone that could work in seven inch heels.

"Well I've been sort of busy you know, but I'm here now and I'm just making sure everything's in order," he told the worker as they nodded along causing their earrings to jingle in the barren room.

He'd only been late for the past two quote unquote checkups because clayface had been causing trouble at the docks again, disguised as some sort of government official. Clayface honestly had to get more creative with his disguises because anyone who wasn't a complete idiot could see that that thing did not talk like any government person.

But it had stirred up enough trouble for the Red Hood to be able to procure some new weapons from a completely legal crate.

It wasn't like they were going to be missed or anything.

"She's in her office and word of advice, there was a little bit of an accident and they're still cleaning up the blood in room four," 

And with that they were off, going through what Jason had initially assumed to be a closet door but was probably the sort of secret passage. He knew that the working people used it whenever they needed to and didn't exactly want to be seen by any customers. 

An accident of course referred to some grab happy man or woman who decided to push too hard against a workers wish and probably got stabbed for their troubles. Jason held no sort of mercy nor respect for those types of monsters and was suitably glad that it was dealt with.

Cerise's office was on the smaller side but not cramped and stuff. It had two worn red chairs in front of her desk with slightly dirty pink wallpaper adorning every wall but the one behind her chair.

It was obviously made to look more fancy and actually it was but it did succeed in being slightly intimidating especially with the portrait of naked witches dancing around a fire where the dirty pink wallpaper would have been. It probably came from a flea market or something but Jason had to stifle and giggle every time he saw it or saw someone's reaction to it.

It was just too good.

He knocked on the door twice, the signal he used to alert the people he respected enough to do so that he was coming in. And that working person had told him that she wasn't exactly busy so he probably didn't have to worry about walking in on her watching two people go at it. That was definitely not something he wanted to repeat.

"At least you ain't like this time," she said instead of a greeting, reading glasses perched high on her nose. The golden frames surrounded dark brown eyes, lidded with gold and red eyeshadow.

"No I ain't but I'm sure you can understand, a guys got to work, keeping part of this city safe," he responded, throwing his hands up and sort of a "look at all this" gesture. 

She rolled her eyes. 

"There hasn't been much trouble on our side of the universe, except a fucker trying to do more than he was promised. But don't worry, Artemis has it taken care of," 

Artemis, not the one he knew but a just as powerful woman. She was one of the sparse security team that worked here and ex-marine he believed though she held more respect than you typically find in those. And she cared a lot for the workers, making sure that they were as safe as they could be in this sort of job. And he was pretty sure that it was her pleasure to deal with those types of monsters.

All in all she was not someone that anyone would want to go up against in a fight unless of course you were a bat trained vigilante that needed better coping mechanisms.

"Glad to hear it, is the worker okay?" Now Jason wasn't very good with the comforting side of this job, but he knew first-hand how scary that sort of event could be. It was the kind of situation that lasted well into the night, filling your brain up with possibilities that you never considered before without something bad happening every once in a while you begin to think you're a little bit more invincible than you actually are, and when the walls finally come crashing down.. it's like dying.

Jason didn't think about his own death for peace of mind but had a tendency to liken it to things, his own messed brain trying to make connections and empathize with people.

"He'll be okay, but he's taking off a few days. His partner and him are going to be staying up on the top floor.

Good, Hood thought, internally relaxing just a little bit. He would still look tense to the untrained eye, but Cerise wasn't exactly untrained. Though she had never probably had any formal combat training, she knew what to look for in people's body languages. You had to do this line of work.

She allowed him a soft sort of smile, her left hand stalling it's fidgeting. There were two rings on it, one with a false Ruby in the center and the other with a small clear gem that Jason wasn't really sure what it was. The smile was exaggerated for his benefits, even she wouldn't dare allow that much of her real emotions to come out, not even for her protector. She was too smart for that.

Being over emotional, save for anger and disgust, would likely get you killed here. Chronology didn't often believe in Mercy, not for the working people and not for the games either. The Red Hood didn't believe in much Mercy either but had enough emotional intelligence to accept when he had a soft spot for someone. Or for people in a particular class of work.

"I'm glad to hear it, have you heard about any trouble?" The other reason besides sentimentality that Jason often visited this establishment was for information. People have a tendency to loosen their tongues around people they only saw as objects to bring them pleasure. They wanted to brag about their latest business endeavor or threaten the working women and men with new weapons that were turning up in Gotham. And the good workers, the ones not scared out of their life or hyped up on drugs listened. They heard the stuff they weren't supposed to and often reported to their quote unquote superiors. Through harsh lipstick stained mouths and smudged eyeliner did Jason get his best information.

And people did not often suspect the whores and the sluts to be there on doing, to even remember the things that they are told. But they were always so ignorant when it came to people who needed to actually work for a living.

And anyone who was smart could take advantage of that.

"Yes actually, Delilah and Achilles or double teaming this one dude, who was blabbing about some of Penguin's goons stirring up trouble. Apparently they got angry and wanted some revenge, maybe they didn't get paid or some petty shit like that. The half of my mind tells me you already know about that, and you should probably unclench your face if you don't want to have to get a new pair of those nice gloves,"

She nodded once at his clenched fists, Jason cursing silently at his lack of awareness. She sent him a smirk as he relaxed his hands.

"That half of your mind is right Cerise. I've been hearing it on my side of the world too-" meaning his actual connections in the Gotham underworld "- so I appreciate the second opinion," 

He made an exaggerated move of relaxing back, the slightly sticky chair almost adhering to his leather jacket. It showed off the holster resting against his hip though he'd never use it against someone like her. And he was pretty confident that she had her hand resting on a little revolver under the desk. 

She was vicious like that.

"Though it has been pretty quiet, nothing from Black Mask or any of the mafia families. You got any information for me to look out for? Any little birdies told you something interesting?" Cerise was playing coy as she was well aware of Jason's complicated relationship with the bats and though she wasn't aware of his past as a Robin she must have had some inkling to it. 

And now Jason was faced with a choice, whether he asked her to look out for information about the silver dragons, as it was technically an open case or he could leave her in the dark, and just hope that she might hear something about it. 

On one hand if he did tell her then the information would be straight streamlined to him but she might tell some of the workers and they might want to do a little bit of investigating on their own. They could get in trouble as The Silver dragons weren't something to be taken exactly lightly.

And if he didn't then they'd be put in less danger but he wouldn't get these tidbits of information that often saved his skin during these types of investigations.

Jason sighed.

"Okay I do have something but you got to promise me that none of your workers will try and do their own investigation capiche? It's about a criminal organization known as the Silver Dragons, I've recently come into possession of some delicate information and I'd be greatly appreciative if you could keep an eye out and an ear out for any chatter about it," 

Eyebrows shut up almost to her hairline, the glass of some sort of alcohol in her hand being set lightly down.

"The Silver Dragons? That's not something that's usually on your radar if you don't mind me saying but I'll look about it all the same. And I'll do my best to see that my workers don't get themselves in any more danger than usual... Capiche," 

She repeated his words back to him with a slight smark, to cover up the shock that was formally present in her face. A cover-up that he knew was necessary, as she was right. The Silver Dragons weren't usually his modus operandi but it was something important.

It wasn't a no though, she was agreeing to his terms. it wasn't often that she retracted his proposals but if she saw that something was too dangerous for her and hers then she'd give him a soft note. She was rather good at that though being a woman in a place full of predatory men and others, you had to be. Jason knew that you didn't trust him but she had trust in his abilities. Cerise knew that he got the job done when it needed to get done and use whatever force was necessary while he was sure that her hands weren't exactly clean, Jason knew that murder wasn't her first option.

She was better at putting people in their place, with a sharp tongue and even sharper fingernails. Hell he was pretty sure that some guys were into it.

"Good to hear it Cerise and give my best to the victim and his partner," Jason still wasn't sure what the quote unquote victim's name was though he had suspected it was the new guy named Onyx. He was pretty sure that onyx had a partner named, what was it again Jinx? It only saw them a few times but they were a cute couple and certainly pretty enough to handle themselves.

it wasn't exactly rare to find someone to love in this line of work but it was quite dangerous, because as both of them had seen today, people aren't very kind to the workers giving them what they want. so he was relatively sure that both of them would recover, though Jinx might be a little bit overprotective of Onyx for a while. Being over-protective wasn't exactly a bad thing, but it could get in the way of work. And that was not good for business.

"Is that all you wanted, Hood, or are you finally going to take a sampling of what we have to offer?" Cerise already knew the answer as he gave the same one every time she asked. She still asked all the same and maybe a professional courtesy or just teasing.

"No, I've got two partners I'm delightfully devoted to at home," Roy and Kori weren't exactly against Jason seeing other people, as they couldn't spend as much time together as they really wanted to but he still wanted to uphold some semblance of commitment to them. their relationship was complicated to say the least, had started as a Friends with benefits sort of situation and moved slowly up to more affectionate sort of things.

Getting together with those two was one of the best decisions Jason had ever made and though they were sometimes separable, reminding him to eat and sleep and not overwork himself. They were good for him.

The Red Hood never spilled who exactly those illustrious partners were but Cerise had probably guessed that they were someone in the Caped community. Though Arsenal and Starfire weren't exactly the first choices. Maybe someone closer. Though Jason hoped no one had assumed it was anyone in the Bat Family. That would be just disgusting.

"If you say so Red, though I know a few girls and a few boys who would love to have you. They might even offer you a discount," she was obviously teasing him at this point, as she had picked up the glass of alcohol again and sipped it coyly.

"You'll be the first to know if I ever change my mind Cerise,"

"I'm counting on it but I've got things to do and I'm sure you do as well," the closest to an outright dismissal that she would get to, waving slightly with the hand that had been fidgeting. He took it in good humor knowing that he'd always prefer the bluntness of these types of women to the mind games they probably play with the other vigilantes.

Blatant favoritism was always something to look strangely at.

"The world keeps on spinning," he said as he gracefully stood up, unsurprisingly to anyone that had ever seen him fight. He wasn't ever truly relaxed when he stepped into the office of cerise, knowing that if she wanted to she could probably shoot him. But she was likely too professional to do so.

But no one could ever know.

He ducked out of the door as a girl came rushing through, decorated with purple body paint and gold glitter her name was probably something akin to royalty with that get up fake fur and a tiara sitting on her head. Maybe she was one of them rented out to birthday parties. 

He nodded his head in greeting and she nodded back, before turning to face her boss. He missed the beginning part of their conversation as he shut the door tightly behind him as he didn't want to intrude on the type of business that Cerise didn't let him see. It just wasn't his place and if she had something tell him she would.

Here again gracefully climbed out the broken window thanking his lucky stars and the economy they would likely not be fixed for another 6 months. Sure he was almost completely welcome to walk through the front door but there was a chance that some unsavory participants would see him and start a ruckus. And he wouldn't want to do that to the business.

The walls had enough bullet holes in them.

His comm crackled to life as Oracle's disguised voice came through. Well that was quicker than he thought as she would only contact him today if she actually had answers.

"If it ain't the woman of the hour," repeating the words the dark-haired androgynous worker had said to him was a nice inside joke for only himself, though he was half certain that Oracle had probably been monitoring his comms at that point too. Probably waiting for the right dramatic time to spring whatever information she wanted to on him.

"That I am and you're really going to want to hear this, and don't worry want to secure a chat line. None of the bats are going to want to interrupt this anyways, they're dealing with Harley and Ivy." And speak of the devil, he was just saying how they had begun to decline in their causing trouble charts but they were still low exams if they annoyed the Bats for a while it couldn't exactly say he was mad.

"Anything I need to worry about?" Jason asked just out of professional courtesy.

"Probably not, it's a lot of Harley trying to diagnose Batman with some mental illnesses. Robin has already threatened to quote un quote “chop her head off and feed it to her own hyenas” three times and Batgirl is currently laughing her ass off." Jason couldn't tell if Barbara was amused, the distortion that kept her safe too much for him to sense. 

"Please tell me you're not in your right mind and can send me footage?" 

"Who do you take me for Hood, of course I can," she replied, though the distorted sound of typing layered over her voice. Multitasker by heart everyone, Barbara Gordon never ceased any task, no matter who she was talking with. And Jason knew that this was definitely not a social call, nobody made social calls to the Red Hood. He let out a slightly strained laugh, she could tell it was fake but obviously didn't care. He didn't much care either but deemed it an appropriate reaction. 

It must be strange as both of their voices were modulated over the comms, Jason's taking on a deeper mechanical hitch while Barbara's was just very scrambled, but despite the differences in the tech it did conceal their identities rather well. It would do no good for the Oracle to be found out she was the information hub to end all information hubs and Jason prided himself on being a very Hands-On Crime boss, not many of them were, preferring to take puppet Master roles. He didn't like it and was never very good at it so he had to disguise himself. Much better than any of the bats disguises though their identity was so important to them.

It was strange to know what I figured out who the robins were, that Domino really didn't hide anything.

"But I'm guessing you fast track that information I asked you to find?" He obviously didn't answer that question but clarifying it was only for his peace of mind. If she wanted to ask him to help out with a case or something she would have done so already. And she would have not bothered to engage in a humorous back and forth. One thing that could be said about her was that she knew what she needed to do. And that you didn't often bother with pleasantries if she could sense that someone didn't need them.

"Yeah and frankly Hood, it's not good. Whoever this BW person is, they're very adept at, for lack of a better term, stalking. Seriously some of the photos on here are taken at very personal times. And I'll admit it's a little creepy seeing pictures of a middle-aged man in his own bedroom, on the phone. though I'll have to admit that I do appreciate the caption under this one, detailing a transcription of the phone call. It's thorough,"

"But is the information good? Are the Drake's who BW says they are?"

There was a pause before a scrambled sigh broke the silence.

"Yeah I think it is. I cross referenced the data about one of the doctors, Dr. Aldrich Gagnon, PhD in biochemical engineering. He's 47 years old, born in Montpellier on February 22nd 1975. His mother was killed in a lab explosion, she was a scientist as well and it seems like his father got lost to... Other substances. He was 15 at a time,"

Jason sighed, he knew this information would likely be leading up to something but he didn't really need this, just his misdeeds.

"It's a nice story and all but what does it have to do with the Silver Dragons and the Drake's apparent criminal activity?"

"I'm getting to that. He was hired to Drake industries 10 years ago, to their r&d department. Though his record is less than favorable. There's a lot of black marks on this, and any respectable business wouldn't have taken him. For example there are over 10 accounts of him using the resources of his employer to do experiments of his own chemical formulas with less than desirable outcomes. And worst of all he served a stint in a few prisons as an adult, mostly for drug possession and distribution,"

She paused, obviously letting him soak up the information this was definitely not good and he was pretty impressed he was able to get this much information after a few hours. It was to be expected after all this was the Oracle, but he couldn't help but be thankful that she was on their side. But it wasn't conclusive, so what if one scientist probably was a nutjob and a bit of a mad scientist, that didn't mean the Drake's were running the criminal organization.

So what if he wasn't convinced? It was just one occurrence, though he guessed that she had more to say.

"And this would all have to be on his public record right? So why would Drake industries higher someone known to do experiments on his own and have been arrested for drug distribution? But he's only one man, sure a bad one that would need to be terminated as soon as possible but as the saying goes one bad Apple doesn't mean the entire tree is rotten," he had begun to pay song top of the rooftop he was sitting on, but luckily his external speakers weren't turned on so any outsider would just assume he was thinking. An upgrade he added after someone had caught him reciting a grocery list under his breath.

"But it's not just one person. Drake industries has a trend of hiring certain people, and it's not like they're taking in ex-convicts for charity or some shit, from what I've been able to gather about Janet and Jack they wouldn't do that. They were less than approving of Wayne industries new tactic of providing second chances for those types of people but they couldn't have not noticed this trend. And these drug records, that bwso lovingly curated are directly from the Drake labs they would have had to have been able to get into the actual building to see these formulas. It's kind of suspicious I'll admit not to mention that BW obviously stands for something,"

"I guess that too but I haven't been able to put together exactly what it stands for," he stops pacing, turning around to look at the late morning sky. It wasn't a clear day per se but the sun shone through in a few spots. It wasn't often that vigilante's came out during the day, and seeing the Red Hood on someone's rooftop though it was one of the poor districts when taken unsurprisingly. But of course this was Crime Alley and no one would ever really ask questions. 

It was a pretty day, as pretty as Gotham could get, though his costume still stuck to scarred skin and itched in uncomfortable places. It wasn't the type of day that would generally bring bad news though the weather could change on a dime. In 30 minutes there could be one of those summer thunderstorms feeling the sky with warm gray clouds and drenching the streets in pleasantly temperature rain summer thunderstorms were always one of Jason's favorite weathers at least when he had enough shelter to look at the rain through glass or from under a tin roof.

If he didn't then it was just another inconvenience.

"I mean it's probably no coincidence that the initials BW are the same ones for Bruce Wayne but I hesitate to make that connection just yet. though if this person could deliver a file to you, without you even recognizing that they did it isn't a folly to assume that they had figured out some more personal information about you," she was right, it's was a terrifying thought to think that someone could just easily invade one of his more personal spaces and this person obviously like to do their research and wouldn't be that far of elite to assume that they had stopped Jason for a time.

And wouldn't that be a hoot, an unknowing figure providing the same type of photos that would incriminate these middle-aged scientists and workers for Drake industries, but with Jason as the subject. He shuddered internally at the thought, growing up in Crime Alley, you had to learn when someone was watching you, to recognize the burn of eyes on the back of your neck. He had honed those skills further as part of his bat training and to not notice the flash of a camera intelligent eyes watching his every move could kill him.

It was not something he wanted to think about.

"But this ain't him, Brucie is a complete airhead, I'm pretty sure Lucius Fox once more of the company than Mr Wayne does. And if it is then I just have to go and talk with Mr Wayne himself," knowing that this comms couldn't be hacked but still relying on the no names rule he quite enjoyed talking about Brucie like he was a separate person, not one Jason was intimately familiar with period. It was like acting out one of the shows he enjoyed in high school, though he didn't often participate in them.

"I’ll cross reference it anyways but I'll admit I don't know as much as I'd like about the Silver Dragons. They started garnering attention about 4 years ago, with typical criminal activities, arms deals and the like. They started out as a bit of equal opportunity killers, though most of these methods seem cold and methodical. Very hands off. Nothing that would garner much suspicion to one or two people. 

If anything, had I started to investigate them without this information, I may have suspected a group of people, not unlike the Mafia families,” The typing once again took over, Oracle took a monnet to find the information she needed. That was good, it gave Jason time to think about another thing he did not want to.

A family. He had seen and taken down families before, with those seeped in the blood of innocence, but the Drake's were small, they didn’t have any living relatives outside of a maybe fake uncle in New York. They were relatively new money, with Drake Industries not having years and years of  Reputation behind it. They had to start from, not exactly the ground up, but pretty close. And they were about as involved in the actual company as Bruce was. From the little that Jason knew, there had to be a board of directors making most of the final decisions, because the Drake's were often halfway across the world, probably obtaining artifacts in less than legal ways.

But could it be a family business? Could the Drake's be priming their teenage son to take over a criminal empire? Jason knew what the size what's in everything, and that sometimes you could use it to your advantage but that kid did not look evil. His eyes were too big, curious and sure he looked at Jason like you wanted to figure him out and take him apart but not in a malicious way more of a just owlilish way. Like his eyes were magnified by glasses despite they are not being any there

Thoughts of that kid running a criminal organization would have made him chuckle in his Robin years, the image of a tiny suit as he sat upon a bloody throne more humorous than intimidating. But now, after he’s seen I’d just be sad. That kid probably didn't even know what was happening.

"They do have a kid Oracle, though he don't exactly look like a criminal mastermind,"

"Yeah Tim. From what I'm able to pull up he's a straight A student, and goes to a public school for some reason. That one's a strange addition but he'll be easier to find if we need to-" Barbara was seriously suggesting stalking a teenager okay. It wasn't the strangest thing he had to do for Bruce and probably done a lot of worse things now. "-he doesn't do a lot of extracurricular activities and is only in one club, the photography club. His teachers just say he's quiet. Not exactly the makings of an heir to a criminal empire," the typing stopped for a moment, as Jason was sure he heard a little distorted inhale.

"What?" He asked, it was never good when the Oracle was surprised by anything. It could arrange from a criminal record to library fines but none of it was ever good.

"Sorry, looking at his medical file now. There's a lot of... well there's a lot of nothing. The last time he got a check up was when he was 10 and that was 4 years ago. It's something big but he's still a kid and I wouldn't want my kid to go without a doctor's assistance for four years. Who knows what he could be harboring?" 

Okay so not exactly a world ending event but something to be wary of. Rich people had access to all the best doctors, and they could pay to have someone's medical record expunged. But to do that for a kid, or just a lack of information it in general was definitely suspicious. 

"But what do we have? Does he have any chronic illnesses, anything fishy?" Anything fishy was a term the Bats used to indicate asking about abuse, specifically parental abuse. Maybe it was a little overboard for the situation but if his parents were in fact the Silver Dragons then it would do good to check all their bases. 

"Besides the lack of any substantial information, no. He had a case of pneumonia when he was eight though it got resolved rather quickly. He also went to a psychologist from the ages of four to nine. I don't know what for from the general file but I can definitely figure it out, just give me a second." The slightly comforting typing took over once again though this time Jason knew its purpose.

What would a rich kid have to go to a psychologist for being so young? it didn't fit in with the image Jason had in his head but maybe it gives some puzzle pieces he didn't know he wanted to uncover. Could he have found out about his parents' misdeeds and then they sent him to a therapist to gas light and make him forget them? Because being that young his parents had to have sent him there, he probably didn't just waddle up to them and say "Hey Mom, hey Dad, I want to go to a therapist".

Jason had never been to an actual therapy appointment but he was familiar with the process. But that was for teenage therapy, not child therapy. It had to be a different set of, more simplistic and more focused on the parents. A kid can absorb that much information about things they could do if they were feeling anxious, so likely the parents were given the techniques and were told to help their own child out. 

"Ah! Says here that there was a traumatic event when he was 4 years old, though it's unspecified and the reason he went to therapy was because of.. debilitating nightmares and selective mutism. Says he was cured by nine though. Really quick turn around, like one day he didn’t speak and the next he was cured,” He could imagine her eyebrows furrowing, suspicious present behind her glasses. Jason could agree with the image in his head, though his face was probably more angry.

“Do you think that his parents “made him better”? Like paid off the doctor and took him home to fix him in their way? Because if so, then I’d like to have a very long conversation with that Doctor,” If he was standing in front of her, he would’ve cracked his knuckles, but for now he settled for clenching them into fists.

“Dr. Heidi Kirk, born 1968 to first gen immigrants from Denmark. Both parents are deceased from natural circumstances. She got her degree in the 90’s from GCMU (Gotham City Medical University) and stayed there to get her Master’s and Doctorate. Nothing suspicious about her,”

“I am very glad that you are on our side,” Jason could feel her smirk through the comms.

“I know Red, but your concern is valid. A kid doesn’t just “get better” out of nowhere, and especially not after 5 years of the same shit. It does smell a little fishy but I wouldn’t go and kill the therapist for it. She likely got paid off by the Drakes and while that’s not good or anything, it doesn't look like she was trying to, let’s say, make Tim worse. I think our first step is for you to come to the clock tower so we can look over what we have and then maybe pay a visit to the Drake’s. They’re going to be home for the next… three weeks it looks like, and at the end of their stay, a gala will be thrown,”

“And then they’re off to another country,”

“Yep, somewhere in Africa,” she didn’t specify but Jason knew she would if he asked. He felt a little wary at the short time schedule, three weeks wasn’t a very long time to take down a criminal organization. Sure it could be down while they were overseas, but it’d be a lot easier to scare them in their own home. Makes you feel a lot less safe when you get “got” on your home turf.

“What are we going to do about this Tim kid?” It was a question on both of their minds, though Jason felt it stir up the green in his stomach. A house like that, with criminal activity burrowed through it couldn’t be healthy. Even the most oblivious kid had to notice something. And a parent as cruel and vicious to not care about the lives they spend, or that die by their hand could not _ love _ their kid.

“TBD, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. You head over here, I’m pretty sure none of the Bats will interrupt you,” And wouldn’t that just be the icing of the cake, another Bat speech about family and forgiveness. Though the bats didn’t often come out during the day time, when they did it was sure to be trouble for someone, probably him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, next chapter will be about Tim and the Sirens

**Author's Note:**

> Can you take a wild guess who sent that Email?
> 
> Thanks for reading, liking, and commenting


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